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STORIES  OF 
THE  GREAT  WEST 


«  I 


Cop)  right,   1905,  by  Alexander  I  .anil  Kit,  M.D. 


STORIES  OF 
THE  GREAT  WEST 


BY 

THEODORE  ROOSEVELT 


Ullustratefc 


NEW  YORK 
THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1913 


Copyright,  1888,  1895,  1909,  by 
The  Century  Co. 

Copyright,  1896,  by  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 


Published  June,  1909 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE 

As  a  youth  Theodore  Roosevelt  was  an  enthusiastic  student 
of  Western  history  and  pioneer  types.  Later,  as  ranchman 
and  hunter,  he  grew  to  know  intimately  and  to  love  deeply 
the  rough,  free  life  of  the  Western  plains.  Mr.  Roosevelt's 
interest  in  history  probably  was  inherited,  but  his  fondness 
for  outdoor  life  grew  out  of  his  grateful  love  for  his  foster 
mother — the  green  earth — who  took  the  delicate  youth  in 
her  rough,  but  kindly,  embrace  and  gave  him  a  sound  body 
and  a  clear  vision. 

It  was  during  the  quiet  evenings,  and  the  otherwise  idle 
hours,  spent  at  Elkhorn,"  his  Dakota  ranch,  that  Theodore 
Roosevelt  penned  most  of  the  fascinating  pictures  of  frontier 
and  ranch  life  that  make  up  this  present  volume. 

The   Backwoodsmen  of  the   Alleghanies  ' '  and       Lewis 
and  Clark  and  the  Exploration  of  the  Far  West"  are  from 

The  Winning  of  the  West,"  permission  to  republish  here 
having  kindly  been  granted  by  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons.  The 
other  stories  are  from  Hero  Tales"  and  Ranch  Life  and 
the  Hunting  Trail."  Some  of  these  stories  have  been  con- 
densed from  the  original  version  for  reasons  of  space. 


281349 


THE  FORELOPER 

The  gull  shall  whistle  in  his  wake,  the  blind  wave  break  in  fire, 
He  shall  fulfil  God's  utmost  will,  unknowing  his  desire; 
And  he  shall  see  old  planets  pass  and  alien  stars  arise, 
And  give  the  gale  his  reckless  sail  in  shadow  of  new  skies, 
Strong  lust  of  gear  shall  drive  him  out  and  hunger  arm  his  hand 
To  wring  his  food  from  a  desert  nude,  his  foothold  from  the  sand. 
His  neighbors'  smoke  shall  vex  his  eyes,  their  voices  break  his  rest; 
He  shall  go  forth  till  South  is  North,  sullen  and  dispossessed; 
He  shall  desire  loneliness,  and  his  desire  shall  bring 
Hard  on  his  heels  a  thousand  wheels,  a  people  and  a  king. 
He  shall  come  back  on  his  own  track  and  by  his  scarce  cool  camp, 
There  shall  he  meet  the  roaring  street,  the  derrick,  and  the  stamp; 
For  he  must  blaze  a  nation's  ways,  with  hatchet  and  with  brand, 
Till  on  his  last-won  wilderness  an  empire's  bulwarks  stand. 

Kipling. 


CONTENTS 
Part  I 

STORIES  FROM  HISTORY 

PAGE 

Daniel  Boone  and  the  Founding  of  Kentucky    ...        3 

The  Backwoodsmen  of  the  Alleghanies     .      .   *  .      .      .      15 

I  Who  they  were  and  where  they  settled. 

II  Their  habitations. 

III  Their  daily  life  and  their  dress. 

IV  The  struggle  for  existence. 

V  The  law  of  the  land. 

George  Rogers  Clark  and  the  Conquest  of  the 

Northwest 55 

Lewis  and  Clark  and  the  Exploration  of  the  Far 

West 69 

I  Purpose  of  the  exploration. 

II  Start  of  the  expedition. 

III  Among  the  Indians. 

IV  In  the  game  country. 

V  Adventures  on  the  homeward  journey. 

Remember  the  Alamo  " 97 

Part  II 
STORIES  OF  ADVENTURE 

The  Cattle  Country  of  the  Far  West 109 

The  Home  Ranch 123 

vii 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Round-up 151 

I  Preparing  for  the  round-up. 

II  Riding  to  the  round-up. 

III  The  encampment. 

IV  The  work  of  rounding-up. 

V  Branding  and  herding. 

Red  and  White  on  the  Border 203 

Sheriff's  Work  on  a  Ranch 221 

I  FlNNIGAN. 

II  The  camp  of  the  thieves. 

III  Eight  days  of  watching. 


VTCl 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Theodore  Roosevelt Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Early  Pioneers  on  the  Blue  Ridge 5 

Their  red  foes  were  strong  and  terrible  "      .      .      .      .      23 
The  backwoodsman's  dress  was  borrowed  from  his 

Indian  foes  " 29 

Pack-horse  Men  Repelling  an  Attack  by  Indians       .      .      37 

All  day  long  the  troops  waded  in  icy  water'      .      .      .      61 

An  Old-time  Mountain  Man  with  his  Ponies  ....      75 

The  Up-river  Men 85 

Death  of  Crockett 101 

An  Episode  in  the  Opening  Up  of  a  Cattle  Country       .    113 

A  Bucking  Bronco ,      .      .      .141 

Trailing  Cattle .......171 

Branding  a  Horse 185 

In  a  Stampede 197 

Standing  off  Indians 207 

We  made  the  men  take  off  their  boots  "       .      .      .      .241 
Adios 255 


IX 


DANIEL  BOONE  AND 
THE  FOUNDING  OF  KENTUCKY 


PART  I 
STORIES  FROM   HISTORY 

DANIEL  BOONE  AND 
THE  FOUNDING  OF  KENTUCKY 

DANIEL  BOONE  will  always  occupy  a 
unique  place  in  our  history  as  the  arch- 
type  of  the  hunter  and  wilderness  wan- 
derer. He  was  a  true  pioneer,  and  stood  at  the 
head  of  that  class  of  Indian-fighters,  game-hunt- 
ers, forest-fellers,  and  backwoods  farmers  who, 
generation  after  generation,  pushed  westward 
the  border  of  civilization  from  the  Alleghanies  to 
the  Pacific.  As  he  himself  said,  he  was  "an  in- 
strument ordained  of  God  to  settle  the  wilder- 
ness." Born  in  Pennsylvania,  he  drifted  south 
into  western  North  Carolina,  and  settled  on  what 
was  then  the  extreme  frontier.  There  he  mar- 
ried, built  a  log  cabin,  and  hunted,  chopped  trees, 
and  tilled  the  ground  like  any  other  frontiers- 
man. The  Alleghany  Mountains  still  marked 
a  boundary  beyond  which  the  settlers  dared  not 
go;  for  west  of  them  lay  immense  reaches  of 
frowning  forests,  uninhabited  save  by  bands  of 
warlike    Indians.     Occasionally    some    venture- 


4  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

some  hunter  or  trapper  penetrated  this  immense 
wilderness,  and  returned  with  strange  stories  of 
what  he  had  seen  and  done. 

In  1769  Boone,  excited  by  these  vague  and 
wondrous  tales,  determined  himself  to  cross  the 
mountains  and  find  out  what  manner  of  land  it 
was  that  lay  beyond.  With  a  few  chosen  com- 
panions he  set  out,  making  his  own  trail  through 
the  gloomy  forest.  After  weeks  of  wandering, 
he  at  last  emerged  into  the  beautiful  and  fertile 
country  of  Kentucky,  for  which,  in  after  years, 
the  red  men  and  the  white  strove  with  such  obsti- 
nate fury  that  it  grew  to  be  called  "the  dark  and 
bloody  ground."  But  when  Boone  first  saw  it,  it 
was  a  fair  and  smiling  land  of  groves  and  glades 
and  running  waters,  where  the  open  forest  grew 
tall  and  beautiful,  and  where  innumerable  herds 
of  game  grazed,  roaming  ceaselessly  to  and  fro 
along  the  trails  they  had  trodden  during  count- 
less generations.  Kentucky  was  not  owned  by 
any  Indian  tribe,  and  was  visited  only  by  wan- 
dering war-parties  and  hunting-parties  who 
came  from  among  the  savage  nations  living  north 
of  the  Ohio  or  south  of  the  Tennessee. 

A  roving  war-party  stumbled  upon  one  of 
Boone's  companions  and  killed  him,  and  the  oth- 
ers then  left  Boone  and  journeyed  home;  but  his 
brother  came  out  to  join  him,  and  the  two  spent 


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DANIEL  BOONE  7 

the  winter  together.  Self-reliant,  fearless,  and 
possessed  of  great  bodily  strength  and  hardi- 
hood, they  cared  little  for  the  loneliness.  The 
teeming  myriads  of  game  furnished  abundant 
food;  the  herds  of  shaggy -maned  bison  and 
noble-antlered  elk,  the  bands  of  deer  and  the  nu- 
merous black  bear,  were  all  ready  for  the  rifle, 
and  they  were  tame  and  easily  slain.  The  wolf 
and  the  cougar,  too,  sometimes  fell  victims  to 
the  prowess  of  the  two  hunters. 

At  times  they  slept  in  hollow  trees,  or  in  some 
bush  lean-to  of  their  own  making ;  at  other  times, 
when  they  feared  Indians,  they  changed  their 
resting-place  every  night,  and  after  making  a 
fire  would  go  off  a  mile  or  two  in  the  woods  to 
sleep.  Surrounded  by  brute  and  human  foes, 
they  owed  their  lives  to  their  sleepless  vigilance, 
their  keen  senses,  their  eagle  eyes,  and  their  reso- 
lute hearts. 

When  the  spring  came,  and  the  woods  were 
white  with  the  dogwood  blossoms,  and  crimsoned 
with  the  red-bud,  Boone's  brother  left  him,  and 
Daniel  remained  for  three  months  alone  in  the 
wilderness.  The  brother  soon  came  back  again 
with  a  party  of  hunters;  and  other  parties  like- 
wise came  in,  to  wander  for  months  and  vears 
through  the  wilderness;  and  they  wrought  huge 
havoc  among  the  vast  herds  of  game. 


8  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

In  1771  Boone  returned  to  his  home.  Two 
years  later  he  started  to  lead  a  party  of  settlers 
to  the  new  country;  but  while  passing  through 
the  frowning  defiles  of  Cumberland  Gap,  they 
were  attacked  by  Indians,  and  driven  back — two  . 
of  Boone's  own  sons  being  slain.  In  1775,  how- 
ever, he  made  another  attempt ;  and  this  attempt 
was  successful.  The  Indians  attacked  the  new- 
comers; but  by  this  time  the  parties  of  would-be 
settlers  were  sufficiently  numerous  to  hold  their 
own.  They  beat  back  the  Indians,  and  built 
rough  little  hamlets,  surrounded  by  log  stockades, 
at  Boonesborough  and  Harrodsburg;  and  the 
permanent  settlement  of  Kentucky  had  begun. 

The  next  few  years  were  passed  by  Boone 
amid  unending  Indian  conflicts.  He  was  a 
leader  among  the  settlers,  both  in  peace  and  in 
war.  At  one  time  he  represented  them  in  the 
House  of  Burgesses  of  Virginia;  at  another  time 
he  was  a  member  of  the  first  little  Kentucky  par- 
liament itself;  and  he  became  a  colonel  of  the 
frontier  militia.  He  tilled  the  land  and  he 
chopped  the  trees  himself;  he  helped  to  build 
the  cabins  and  stockades  with  his  own  hands, 
wielding  the  long-handled,  light-headed  frontier 
ax  as  skilfully  as  other  frontiersmen.  His  main 
business  was  that  of  surveyor,  for  his  knowledge 
of  the  country,  and  his  ability  to  travel  through 


DANIEL  BOONE  9 

it,  in  spite  of  the  danger  from  Indians,  created 
much  demand  for  his  services  among  people  who 
wished  to  lay  off  tracts  of  wild  land  for  their  own 
future  use.  But  whatever  he  did,  and  wherever 
he  went,  he  had  to  be  sleeplessly  on  the  lookout 
for  his  Indian  foes.  When  he  and  his  fellows 
tilled  the  stump-dotted  fields  of  corn,  one  or  more 
of  the  party  were  always  on  guard,  with  weapon 
at  the  ready,  for  fear  of  lurking  savages.  When 
he  went  to  the  House  of  Burgesses  he  carried  his 
long  rifle,  and  traversed  roads  not  a  mile  of  which 
was  free  from  the  danger  of  Indian  attack.  The 
settlements  in  the  early  years  depended  exclu- 
sively upon  game  for  their  meat,  and  Boone  was 
the  mightiest  of  all  the  hunters,  so  that  upon  him 
devolved  the  task  of  keeping  his  people  supplied. 
He  killed  many  buffaloes,  and  pickled  the  buf- 
falo beef  for  use  in  winter.  He  killed  great 
numbers  of  black  bear,  and  made  bacon  of  them, 
precisely  as  if  they  had  been  hogs.  The  com- 
mon game  were  deer  and  elk.  At  that  time  none 
of  the  hunters  of  Kentucky  would  waste  a  shot 
on  anything  so  small  as  a  prairie-chicken  or  wild 
duck ;  but  they  sometimes  killed  geese  and  swans 
when  they  came  south  in  winter  and  lit  on  the  riv- 
ers. But  whenever  Boone  went  into  the  woods 
after  game,  he  had  perpetually  to  keep  watch 
lest  he  himself  might  be  hunted  in  turn.     He 


10        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

never  lay  in  wait  at  a  game-lick,  save  with  ears 
strained  to  hear  the  approach  of  some  crawling 
red  foe.  He  never  crept  up  to  a  turkey  he  heard 
calling,  without  exercising  the  utmost  care  to  see 
that  it  was  not  an  Indian ;  for  one  of  the  favorite 
devices  of  the  Indians  was  to  imitate  the  turkey 
call,  and  thus  allure  within  range  some  inexperi- 
enced hunter. 

Besides  this  warfare,  which  went  on  in  the 
midst  of  his  usual  vocations,  Boone  frequently 
took  the  field  on  set  expeditions  against  the  sav- 
ages. Once  when  he  and  a  party  of  other  men 
were  making  salt  at  a  lick,  they  were  surprised 
and  carried  off  by  the  Indians.  The  old  hunter 
was  a  prisoner  with  them  for  some  months,  but 
finally  made  his  escape  and  came  home  through 
the  trackless  woods  as  straight  as  the  wild  pigeon 
flies.  He  was  ever  on  the  watch  to  ward  off  the 
Indian  inroads,  and  to  follow  the  war-parties, 
and  try  to  rescue  the  prisoners.  Once  his  own 
daughter,  and  two  other  girls  who  were  with 
her,  were  carried  off  by  a  band  of  Indians. 
Boone  raised  some  friends  and  followed  the  trail 
steadily  for  two  days  and  a  night ;  then  they  came 
to  where  the  Indians  had  killed  a  buffalo  calf 
and  were  camped  around  it.  Firing  from  a  lit- 
tle distance,  the  whites  shot  two  of  the  Indians, 
and,  rushing  in,  rescued  the  girls.     On  another 


DANIEL  BOONE  11 

occasion,  when  Boone  had  gone  to  visit  a  salt- 
lick with  his  brother,  the  Indians  ambushed  them 
and  shot  the  latter.  Boone  himself  escaped,  but 
the  Indians  followed  him  for  three  miles  by  the 
aid  of  a  tracking  dog,  until  Boone  turned,  shot 
the  dog,  and  then  eluded  his  pursuers.  In  com- 
pany with  Simon  Kenton  and  many  other  noted 
hunters  and  wilderness  warriors,  he  once  and 
again  took  part  in  expeditions  into  the  Indian 
country,  where  they  killed  the  braves  and  drove 
off  the  horses.  Twice  bands  of  Indians,  accom- 
panied by  French,  Tory,  and  British  partizans 
from  Detroit,  bearing  the  flag  of  Great  Britain, 
attacked  Boonesborough.  In  each  case  Boone 
and  his  fellow-settlers  beat  them  off  with  loss. 
At  the  fatal  battle  of  the  Blue  Licks,  in  which 
two  hundred  of  the  best  riflemen  of  Kentucky 
were  beaten  with  terrible  slaughter  by  a  great 
force  of  Indians  from  the  lakes,  Boone  com- 
manded the  left  wing.  Leading  his  men,  rifle  in 
hand,  he  pushed  back  and  overthrew  the  force 
against  him;  but  meanwhile  the  Indians  de- 
stroyed the  right  wing  and  center,  and  got  round 
in  his  rear,  so  that  there  was  nothing  left  for 
Boone's  men  except  to  flee  with  all  possible  speed. 
As  Kentucky  became  settled,  Boone  grew 
restless  and  ill  at  ease.  He  loved  the  wilderness ; 
he  loved  the  great  forests  and  the  great  prairie- 


\ 


12        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

like  glades,  and  the  life  in  the  little  lonely  cabin, 
where  from  the  door  he  could  see  the  deer  come 
out  into  the  clearing  at  nightfall.  The  neighbor- 
hood of  his  own  kind  made  him  feel  cramped  and 
ill  at  ease.  *  So  he  moved  ever  westward  with  the 
frontier;  and  as  Kentucky  filled  up  he  crossed 
the  Mississippi  and  settled  on  the  borders  of  the 
prairie  country  of  Missouri,  where  the  Spaniards, 
who  ruled  the  territory,  made  him  an  alcalde,  or 
judge.  He  lived  to  a  great  age,  and  died  out 
on  the  border,  a  backwoods  hunter  to  the  last. 


BACKWOODSMEN  OF  THE 
ALLEGHANIES 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  OF  THE 

ALLEGHANIES 

1769-1774 

I.      WHO  THEY  WERE  AND  WHERE  THEY  SETTLED 

ALONG  the  western  frontier  of  the  colonies 
that  were  so  soon  to  be  the  United  States, 
among  the  foothills  of  the  Alleghanies,  on 
the  slopes  of  the  wooded  mountains,  and  in  the 
long  trough-like  valleys  that  lay  between  the 
ranges  dwelt  a  peculiar  and  characteristically 
American  people. 

These  frontier  folk,  the  people  of  the  up-coun- 
try, or  back-country,  who  lived  near  and  among 
the  forest-clad  mountains,  far  away  from  the 
long-settled  districts  of  flat  coast  plain  and  slug- 
gish tidal  river,  were  known  to  themselves  and 
to  others  as  backwoodsmen.  They  all  bore  a 
strong  likeness  to  one  another  in  their  habits  of 
thought  and  ways  of  living,  and  differed  mark- 
edly from  the  people  of  the  older  and  more  civ- 
ilized communities  to  the  eastward.  The  west- 
ern border  of  our  country  was  then  formed  by 
the    great    barrier-chains    of    the    Alleghanies, 

15 


16       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

which  ran  north  and  south  from  Pennsylvania 
through  Maryland,  Virginia,  and  the  Carolinas, 
the  trend  of  the  valleys  being  parallel  to  the  sea- 
coast,  and  the  mountains  rising  highest  to  the 
southward.  It  was  difficult  to  cross  the  ranges 
from  east  to  west,  but  it  was  both  easy  and  nat- 
ural to  follow  the  valleys  between.  From  Fort 
Pitt  to  the  high  hill-homes  of  the  Cherokees  this 
great  tract  of  wooded  and  mountainous  country 
possessed  nearly  the  same  features  and  charac- 
teristics, differing  utterly  in  physical  aspect 
from  the  alluvial  plains  bordering  the  ocean. 

The  backwoodsmen  were  Americans  by  birth 
and  parentage,  and  of  mixed  race ;  but  the  dom- 
inant strain  in  their  blood  was  that  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Irish — the  Scotch-Irish  as  they  were 
often  called.  These  Irish  representatives  of  the 
Covenanters  were  in  the  west  almost  what  the 
Puritans  were  in  the  northeast,  and  more  than 
the  Cavaliers  were  in  the  south.  Mingled  with 
the  descendants  of  many  other  races,  they  never- 
theless formed  the  kernel  of  the  distinctively  and 
intensely  American  stock  who  were  the  pioneers 
of  our  people  in  their  march  westward,  the  van- 
guard of  the  army  of  fighting  settlers,  who  with 
ax  and  rifle  won  their  way  from  the  Alleghanies 
to  the  Rio  Grande  and  the  Pacific. 

The  Presbyterian   Irish  were  themselves  al- 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  17 

ready  a  mixed  people.  Though  mainly  de- 
scended from  Scotch  ancestors,  many  of  them 
were  of  English,  a  few  of  French  Huguenot, 
and  quite  a  number  of  true  old  Milesian  Irish 
extraction.  They  were  a  truculent  and  obstinate 
people,  and  gloried  in  the  warlike  renown  of 
their  forefathers,  the  men  who  had  followed 
Cromwell,  and  who  had  shared  in  the  defence  of 
Derry  and  in  the  victories  of  the  Boyne  and 
Aughrim. 

They  did  not  begin  to  come  to  America  in  any 
numbers  till  after  the  opening  of  the  eighteenth 
century;  by  1730  they  were  fairly  swarming 
across  the  ocean,  for  the  most  part  in  two 
streams,  the  larger  going  to  the  port  of  Phila- 
delphia, the  smaller  to  the  port  of  Charleston. 
Pushing  through  the  long  settled  lowlands  of  the 
seacoast,  they  at  once  made  their  abode  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountains,  and  became  the  outposts 
of  civilization.  From  Pennsylvania,  whither  the 
great  majority  had  come,  they  drifted  south 
along  the  foothills  and  down  the  long  valleys, 
till  they  met  their  brethren  from  Charleston  who 
had  pushed  up  into  the  Carolina  back-country. 
In  this  land  of  hills,  covered  by  unbroken  forest, 
they  took  root  and  flourished,  stretching  in  a 
broad  belt  from  north  to  south,  a  shield  of  sinewy 
men  thrust  in  between  the  people  of  the  seaboard 


18        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

and  the  red  warriors  of  the  wilderness.  All 
through  this  region  they  were  alike;  they  had  as 
little  kinship  with  the  Cavalier  as  with  the 
Quaker;  the  west  was  won  by  those  who  have 
been  rightly  called  the  Roundheads  of  the  south, 
the  same  men  who,  before  any  others,  declared 
for  American  independence. 

That  these  Irish  Presbyterians  were  a  bold  and 
hardy  race  is  proved  by  their  at  once  pushing 
past  the  settled  regions,  and  plunging  into  the 
wilderness  as  the  leaders  of  the  white  advance. 
They  were  the  first  and  last  set  of  immigrants  to 
do  this;  all  others  have  merely  followed  in  the 
wake  of  their  predecessors. 

These  Presbyterian  Irish  were,  however,  far 
from  being  the  only  settlers  on  the  border,  al- 
though more  than  any  others  they  impressed  the 
stamp  of  their  peculiar  character  on  the  pioneer 
civilization  of  the  west  and  southwest.  Great 
numbers  of  immigrants  of  English  descent  came 
among  them  from  the  settled  districts  on  the 
east ;  and  though  these  later  arrivals  soon  became 
indistinguishable  from  the  people  among  whom 
they  settled,  yet  they  certainly  sometimes  added 
a  tone  of  their  own  to  backwoods  society,  giv- 
ing it  here  and  there  a  slight  dash  of  what  we 
are  accustomed  to  consider  the  distinctively 
southern  or  cavalier  spirit.     There  was  likewise 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  19 

a  large  German  admixture,  not  only  from  the 
Germans  of  Pennsylvania,  but  also  from  those 
of  the  Carolinas.  A  good  many  Huguenots 
likewise  came,  giving  to  the  backwoods  society 
such  families  as  the  Seviers  and  Lenoirs.  The 
Huguenots,  like  the  Germans,  frequently  had 
their  names  Anglicized.  The  best  known  and 
most  often  quoted  example  is  that  of  the  Blanc- 
pied  family,  part  of  whom  have  become  White- 
foots,  while  the  others,  living  on  the  coast,  have 
suffered  a  marvellous  sea-change,  the  name  re- 
appearing as  "Blumpy."  There  were  a  few 
Hollanders  and  even  Swedes,  from  the  banks  of 
the  Delaware,  or  perhaps  from  farther  off  still. 

A  single  generation,  passed  under  the  hard 
conditions  of  life  in  the  wilderness,  was  enough 
to  weld  together  into  one  people  the  representa- 
tives of  these  numerous  and  widely  different 
races;  and  the  children  of  the  next  generation 
became  indistinguishable  from  one  another. 
Long  before  the  first  Continental  Congress  as- 
sembled, the  backwoodsmen,  whatever  their 
blood,  had  become  Americans,  one  in  speech, 
thought,  and  character,  clutching  firmly  the  land 
in  which  their  fathers  and  grandfathers  had  lived 
before  them.  They  had  lost  all  remembrance  of 
Europe  and  all  sympathy  with  things  European ; 
they  had  become  as  emphatically  products  native 


20        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

to  the  soil  as  were  the  tough  and  supple  hickories 
out  of  which  they  fashioned  the  handles  of  their 
long,  light  axes.  Their  grim,  harsh,  narrow 
lives  were  yet  strangely  fascinating  and  full  of 
adventurous  toil  and  danger;  none  but  natures 
as  strong,  as  freedom-loving,  and  as  full  of  bold 
defiance  as  theirs  could  have  endured  existence 
on  the  terms  which  these  men  found  pleasurable. 
Their  iron  surroundings  made  a  mould  which 
turned  out  all  alike  in  the  same  shape.  They  re- 
sembled one  another,  and  they  differed  from  the 
rest  of  the  world — even  the  world  of  America, 
and  infinitely  more  the  world  of  Europe — in 
dress,  in  customs,  and  in  mode  of  life. 

Where  their  lands  abutted  on  the  more  settled 
districts  to  the  eastward,  the  population  was  of 
course  thickest,  and  their  peculiarities  least. 
Here^and  there  at  such  points  they  built  small 
backwoods  burgs  or  towns,  rude,  straggling,  un- 
kempt villages,  with  a  store  or  two,  a  tavern,  a 
small  log  school-house,  and  a  little  church,  pre- 
sided over  by  a  hard-featured  Presbyterian 
preacher,  gloomy,  earnest,  and  zealous,  probably 
bigoted  and  narrow-minded,  but  nevertheless  a 
great  power  for  good  in  the  community. 

However,  the  backwoodsmen  as  a  class  neither 
built  towns  nor  loved  to  dwell  therein.  They 
were  to  be  seen  at  their  best  in  the  vast,  intermin- 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  21 

able  forests  that  formed  their  chosen  home. 
They  won  and  kept  their  lands  by  force,  and 
ever  lived  either  at  war  or  in  dread  of  war. 
Hence  they  settled  always  in  groups  of  several 
families  each,  all  banded  together  for  mutual 
protection.  Their  red  foes  were  strong  and  ter- 
rible, cunning  in  council,  dreadful  in  battle,  mer- 
ciless beyond  belief  in  victory.  The  men  of  the 
border  did  not  overcome  and  dispossess  cowards 
and  weaklings;  they  marched  forth  to  spoil  the 
stout-hearted  and  to  take  for  a  prey  the  posses- 
sions of  the  men  of  might.  Every  acre,  every 
rood  of  ground  which  they  claimed  had  to  be 
cleared  by  the  ax  and  held  with  the  rifle.  Not 
only  was  the  chopping  down  of  the  forests  the 
first  preliminary  to  cultivation,  but  it  was  also 
the  surest  means  of  subduing  the  Indians,  to 
whom  the  unending  stretches  of  choked  wood- 
lands were  an  impenetrable  cover  behind  which 
to  move  unseen,  a  shield  in  making  assaults,  and 
a  strong  tower  of  defence  in  repelling  counter- 
attacks. In  the  conquest  of  the  west  the  back- 
woods ax,  shapely,  well-poised,  with  long  haft 
and  light  head,  was  a  servant  hardly  standing 
second  even  to  the  rifle ;  the  two  were  the  national 
weapons  of  the  American  backwoodsman,  and  in 
their  use  he  has  never  been  excelled. 


n        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

II.      THEIR  HABITATIONS. 

When  a  group  of  families  moved  out  into  the 
wilderness  they  built  themselves  a  station  or 
stockade  fort ;  a  square  palisade  of  upright  logs, 
loop-holed,  with  strong  blockhouses  as  bastions 
at  the  corners.  One  side  at  least  was  generally 
formed  by  the  backs  of  the  cabins  themselves, 
all  standing  in  a  row ;  and  there  was  a  great  door 
or  gate,  that  could  be  strongly  barred  in  case  of 
need.  Often  no  iron  whatever  was  employed  in 
any  of  the  buildings.  The  square  inside  con- 
tained the  provision  sheds  and  frequently  a 
strong  central  blockhouse  as  well.  These  forts, 
of  course,  could  not  stand  against  cannon,  and 
they  were  always  in  danger  when  attacked  with 
fire;  but  save  for  this  risk  of  burning  they  were 
very  effectual  defences  against  men  without  ar- 
tillery, and  were  rarely  taken,  whether  by  whites 
or  Indians,  except  by  surprise.  Few  other  build- 
ings have  played  so  important  a  part  in  our  his- 
tory as  the  rough  stockade  fort  of  the  back- 
woods. 

The  families  only  lived  in  the  fort  when  there 
was  war  with  the  Indians,  and  even  then  not  in 
the  winter.  At  other  times  they  all  separated 
out  to  their  own  farms,  universally  called  clear- 


) 


"  Their  red  foes  were  strong  and  terrible." 


I 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  25 

ings,  as  they  were  always  made  by  first  cutting 
off  the  timber.  The  stumps  were  left  to  dot  the 
fields  of  grain  and  Indian  corn.  The  corn  in 
especial  was  the  stand-by  and  invariable  resource 
of  the  western  settler;  it  was  the  crop  on  which 
he  relied  to  feed  his  family,  and  when  hunting 
or  on  a  war  trail  the  parched  grains  were  carried 
in  his  leather  wallet  to  serve  often  as  his  only 
food.  But  he  planted  orchards  and  raised  mel- 
ons, potatoes,  and  many  other  fruits  and  vege- 
tables as  well ;  and  he  had  usually  a  horse  or  two, 
cows,  and  perhaps  hogs  and  sheep,  if  the  wolves 
and  bears  did  not  interfere.  If  he  was  poor  his 
cabin  was  made  of  unhewn  logs,  and  held  but  a 
single  room;  if  well-to-do,  the  logs  were  neatly 
hewed,  and  besides  the  large  living  and  eating- 
room  with  its  huge  stone  fireplace,  there  was  also 
a  small  bedroom  and  a  kitchen,  while  a  ladder 
led  to  the  loft  above,  in  which  the  boys  slept. 
The  floor  was  made  of  puncheons,  great  slabs  of 
wood  hewed  carefully  out,  and  the  roof  of  clap- 
boards. Pegs  of  wood  were  thrust  into  the  sides 
of  the  house,  to  serve  instead  of  a  wardrobe ;  and 
buck  antlers,  thrust  into  joists,  held  the  ever- 
ready  rifles.  The  table  was  a  great  clapboard  set 
on  four  wooden  legs;  there  were  three-legged 
stools,  and  in  the  better  sort  of  houses  old-fash- 


26        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

ioned  rocking-chairs.  The  couch  or  bed  was 
warmly  covered  with  blankets,  bear-skins,  and 
deer-hides. 

These  clearings  lay  far  apart  from  one  another 
in  the  wilderness.  Up  to  the  door-sills  of  the 
log-huts  stretched  the  solemn  and  mysterious 
forest.  There  were  no  openings  to  break  its 
continuity;  nothing  but  endless  leagues  on 
leagues  of  shadowy,  wolf -haunted  woodland. 
The  great  trees  towered  aloft  till  their  separate 
heads  were  lost  in  the  mass  of  foliage  above,  and 
the  rank  underbrush  choked  the  spaces  between 
the  trunks.  On  the  higher  peaks  and  ridge- 
crests  of  the  mountains  there  were  straggling 
birches  and  pines,  hemlocks  and  balsam  firs ;  else- 
where, oaks,  chestnuts,  hickories,  maples,  beeches, 
walnuts,  and  great  tulip  trees  grew  side  by  side 
with  many  other  kinds.  The  sunlight  could  not 
penetrate  the  roofed  archway  of  murmuring 
leaves ;  through  the  gray  aisles  of  the  forest  men 
walked  always  in  a  kind  of  mid-day  gloaming. 
Those  who  had  lived  in  the  open  plains  felt  when 
they  came  to  the  back-woods  as  if  their  heads 
were  hooded.  Save  on  the  border  of  a  lake, 
from  a  cliff  top,  or  on  a  bald  knob — that  is,  a 
bare  hill-shoulder, — they  could  not  anywhere  look 
out  for  any  distance. 

All  the  land  was  shrouded  in  one  vast  forest. 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  27 

It  covered  the  mountains  from  crest  to  river-bed, 
filled  the  plains,  and  stretched  in  somber  and  mel- 
ancholy wastes  towards  the  Mississippi.  All 
that  it  contained,  all  that  lay  hid  within  it  and 
beyond  it,  none  could  tell;  men  only  knew  that 
their  boldest  hunters,  however  deeply  they  had 
penetrated,  had  not  yet  gone  through  it,  that  it 
was  the  home  of  the  game  they  followed  and  the 
wild  beasts  that  preyed  on  their  flocks,  and  that 
deep  in  its  tangled  depths  lurked  their  red  foes, 
hawk-eyed  and  wolf -hearted. 

III.      THEIR  DAILY  LIFE  AND   THEIR  DRESS. 

Backwoods  society  was  simple,  and  the  duties 
and  rights  of  each  member  of  the  family  were 
plain  and  clear.  The  man  was  the  armed  pro- 
tector and  provider,  the  bread-winner ;  the  woman 
was  the  housewife  and  mother.  They  married 
young  and  their  families  were  large,  for  they 
were  strong  and  healthy,  and  their  success  in 
life  depended  on  their  own  stout  arms  and  will- 
ing hearts.  There  was  everywhere  great  equal- 
ity of  conditions.  Land  was  plenty  and  all  else 
scarce ;  so  courage,  thrift,  and  industry  were  sure 
of  their  reward.  All  had  small  farms,  with  the 
few  stock  necessary  to  cultivate  them ;  the  farms 
being  generally  placed  in  the  hollows,  the  divi- 


28        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

sion  lines  between  them,  if  they  were  close  to- 
gether, being  the  tops  of  the  ridges  and  the  water- 
courses, especially  the  former.  The  buildings  of 
each  farm  were  usually  at  its  lowest  point,  as 
if  in  the  center  of  an  amphitheater.  Each  was 
on  an  average  of  about  400  acres,  but  sometimes 
more.  Tracts  of  low,  swampy  grounds,  pos- 
sibly some  miles  from  the  cabin,  were  cleared 
for  meadows,  the  fodder  being  stacked,  and 
hauled  home  in  winter. 

Each  backwoodsman  was  not  only  a  small 
farmer  but  also  a  hunter;  for  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren depended  for  their  meat  upon  the  venison 
and  bear's  flesh  procured  by  his  rifle.  The  peo- 
ple were  restless  and  always  on  the  move.  After 
being  a  little  while  in  a  place,  some  of  the  men 
would  settle  down  permanently,  while  others 
would  again  drift  off,  farming  and  hunting  al- 
ternately to  support  their  families.  The  back- 
woodsman's dress  was  in  great  part  borrowed 
from  his  Indian  foes.  He  wore  a  fur  cap  or 
felt  hat,  moccasins,  and  either  loose,  thin  trous- 
ers, or  else  simply  leggings  of  buckskin  or  elk- 
hide,  and  the  Indian  breech-clout.  He  was  al- 
ways clad  in  the  fringed  hunting-shirt,  of  home- 
spun or  buckskin,  the  most  picturesque  and  dis- 
tinctively national  dress  ever  worn  in  America. 
It  was  a  loose  smock  or  tunic,  reaching  nearly 


V 


li  The  backwoodsman's  dress  was  borrowed  from  his 

Indian  foes." 


<  < 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  31 

to  the  knees,  and  held  in  at  the  waist  by  a  broad 
belt,  from  which  hung  the  tomahawk  and  scalp - 
ing-knife.  His  weapon  was  the  long,  small- 
bore, flint-lock  rifle,  clumsy,  and  ill-balanced,  but 
exceedingly  accurate.  It  was  very  heavy,  and 
when  upright,  reached  to  the  chin  of  a  tall  man ; 
for  the  barrel  of  thick,  soft  iron,  was  four  feet 
in  length,  while  the  stock  was  short,  and  the  butt 
scooped  out.  Sometimes  it  was  plain,  some- 
times ornamented.  It  was  generally  bored  out 
— or,  as  the  expression  then  was,  "sawed  out" — 
to  carry  a  ball  of  seventy,  more  rarely  of  thirty 
or  forty,  to  the  pound;  and  was  usually  of  back- 
woods manufacture.  The  marksman  almost  al- 
ways fired  from  a  rest,  and  rarely  at  a  very  long 
range;  and  the  shooting  was  marvelously  accu- 
rate. 

In  the  backwoods  there  was  very  little  money; 
barter  was  the  common  form  of  exchange,  and 
peltries  were  often  used  as  a  circulating  medium, 
a  beaver,  otter,  fisher,  dressed  buckskin  or  large 
bear-skin  being  reckoned  as  equal  to  two  foxes 
or  wildcats,  four  coons,  or  eight  minks.  A 
young  man  inherited  nothing  from  his  father  but 
his  strong  frame  and  eager  heart ;  but  before  him 
lay  a  whole  continent  wherein  to  pitch  his  farm, 
and  he  felt  ready  to  marry  as  soon  as  he  became 
of  age,   even  though  he  had  nothing  but  his 


32         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

clothes,  his  horses,  his  ax  and  his  rifle.  If  a  girl 
was  well  off,  and  had  been  careful  and  industri- 
ous, she  might  herself  bring  a  dowry,  of  a  cow 
and  a  calf,  a  brood  mare,  a  bed  well  stocked  with 
blankets,  and  a  chest  containing  her  clothes — the 
latter  not  very  elaborate,  for  a  woman's  dress 
consisted  of  a  hat  or  poke  bonnet,  a  "bed  gown," 
perhaps  a  jacket,  and  a  linsey  petticoat,  while 
her  feet  were  thrust  into  coarse  shoepacks  or  moc- 
casins. Fine  clothes  were  rare;  a  suit  of  such 
cost  more  than  200  acres  of  good  land. 

The  first  lesson  the  backwoodsmen  learned  was 
the  necessity  of  self-help;  the  next,  that  such  a 
community  could  only  thrive  if  all  joined  in 
helping  one  another.  Log-rollings,  house-rais- 
ings, house-warmings,  corn-shuckings,  quiltings, 
and  the  like  were  occasions  when  all  the  neigh- 
bors came  together  to  do  what  the  family  itself 
could  hardly  accomplish  alone.  Every  such 
meeting  was  the  occasion  of  a  frolic  and  dance 
for  the  young  people,  and  the  host  exerting  his 
utmost  power  to  spread  the  table  with  backwoods 
delicacies — bear-meat  and  venison,  vegetables 
from  the  "truck  patch,"  where  squashes,  melons, 
beans,  and  the  like  were  grown,  wild  fruits, 
bowls  of  milk,  and  apple  pies,  which  were  the  ac- 
knowledged standard  of  luxury.  At  the  better 
houses  there  was  metheglin  or  small  beer,  cider, 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  33 

cheese,  and  biscuits.  Tea  was  so  little  known 
that  many  of  the  backwoods  people  were  not 
aware  it  was  a  beverage  and  at  first  attempted  to 
eat  the  leaves  with  salt  or  butter. 

The  young  men  prided  themselves  on  their 
bodily  strength,  and  were  always  eager  to  con- 
tend against  one  another  in  athletic  games,  such 
as  wrestling,  racing,  jumping,  and  lifting  flour- 
barrels  ;  and  they  also  sought  distinction  in  vieing 
with  one  another  at  their  work.  Sometimes  they 
strove  against  one  another  singly,  sometimes 
they  divided  into  parties,  each  bending  all  its  en- 
ergies to  be  first  in  shucking  a  given  heap  of  corn 
or  cutting  (with  sickles)  an  allotted  patch  of 
wheat.  Among  the  men  the  bravos  or  bullies 
often  were  dandies  also  in  the  backwoods  fash- 
ions, wearing  their  hair  long  and  delighting  in 
the  rude  finery  of  hunting-shirts  embroidered 
with  porcupine  quills;  they  were  loud,  boastful, 
and  profane,  given  to  coarsely  bantering  one  an- 
other. Brutally  savage  fights  were  frequent; 
the  combatants,  who  were  surrounded  by  rings 
of  interested  spectators,  striking,  kicking,  biting, 
and  gouging.  The  fall  of  one  of  them  did  not 
stop  the  fight,  for  the  man  who  was  down  was 
maltreated  without  mercy  until  he  called 
"enough."  The  victor  always  bragged  savagely 
of  his  prowess,  often  leaping  on  a  stump,  crow- 


34        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

ing  and  flapping  his  arms.  This  last  was  a 
thoroughly  American  touch;  but  otherwise  one 
of  these  contests  was  less  a  boxing  match  than  a 
kind  of  backwoods  yancratium,  no  less  revolting 
than  its  ancient  prototype  of  Olympic  fame. 
Yet,  if  the  uncouth  borderers  were  as  brutal  as 
the  highly  polished  Greeks,  they  were  more 
manly ;  defeat  was  not  necessarily  considered  dis- 
grace, a  man  often  fighting  when  he  was  certain 
to  be  beaten,  while  the  onlookers  neither  hooted 
nor  pelted  the  conquered.  We  first  hear  of  the 
noted  scout  and  Indian  fighter,  Simon  Kenton, 
as  leaving  a  rival  for  dead  after  one  of  these 
ferocious  duels,  and  fleeing  from  his  home  in 
terror  of  the  punishment  that  might  follow  the 
deed.  Such  fights  were  specially  frequent  when 
the  backwoodsmen  went  into  the  little  frontier 
towns  to  see  horse  races  or  fairs. 

A  wedding  was  always  a  time  of  festival.  If 
there  was  a  church  anywhere  near,  the  bride  rode 
thither  on  horseback  behind  her  father,  and  after 
the  service  her  pillion  was  shifted  to  the  bride- 
groom's steed.  If,  as  generally  happened,  there 
was  no  church,  the  groom  and  his  friends,  all 
armed,  rode  to  the  house  of  the  bride's  father, 
the  men  racing  recklessly  along  the  narrow 
bridle-paths,  for  there  were  few  roads  or  wheeled 
vehicles  in  the  backwoods.     At  the  bride's  house 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  35 

the  ceremony  was  performed,  and  then  a  huge 
dinner  was  eaten;  after  which  the  riddling  and 
dancing  began,  and  were  continued  all  the  after- 
noon, and  most  of  the  night  as  well.  The  fun 
was  hearty  and  coarse,  and  the  toasts  always  in- 
cluded one  to  the*  young  couple,  with  the  wish 
that  they  might  have  many  big  children;  for  as 
long  as  they  could  remember  the  backwoodsmen 
had  lived  at  war,  while  looking  ahead  they  saw 
no  chance  of  its  ever  stopping,  and  so  each  son 
was  regarded  as  a  future  warrior,  a  help  to  the 
whole  community.  The  neighbors  all  joined 
again  in  chopping  and  rolling  the  logs  for  the 
young  couple's  future  house,  then  in  raising  the 
house  itself,  and  finally  in  feasting  and  dancing 
at  the  house-warming. 

Funerals  were  simple,  the  dead  body  being  car- 
ried to  the  grave  in  a  coffin  slung  on  poles  and 
borne  by  four  men. 

There  was  not  much  schooling,  and  few  boys 
or  girls  learned  much  more  than  reading,  writ- 
ing, and  ciphering  up  to  the  rule  of  three. 
Where  the  school-houses  existed  they  were  only 
dark,  mean  log -huts,  and  if  in  the  southern  col- 
onies, were  generally  placed  in  the  so-called  "old 
fields,"  or  abandoned  farms  grown  up  with  pines. 
The  schoolmaster  boarded  about  with  the  fam- 
ilies; his  learning  was  rarely  great,  nor  was  his 


36         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

discipline  good,  in  spite  of  the  frequency  and 
severity  of  the  canings.  The  price  for  such  tui- 
tion was  at  the  rate  of  twenty  shillings  a  year, 
in  Pennsylvania  currency. 

Each  family  did  every  thing  that  could  be 
done  for  itself.  The  father  and  sons  worked 
with  ax,  hoe,  and  sickle.  Almost  every  house 
contained  a  loom,  and  almost  every  woman  was 
a  weaver.  Linsey-woolsey,  made  from  flax 
grown  near  the  cabin,  and  of  wool  from  the  backs 
of  the  few  sheep,  was  the  warmest  and  most  sub- 
stantial cloth ;  and  when  the  flax  crop  failed  and 
the  flocks  were  destroyed  by  wolves,  the  children 
had  but  scanty  covering  to  hide  their  nakedness. 
The  man  tanned  the  buckskin,  the  woman  was 
tailor  and  shoemaker,  and  made  the  deer-skin 
sifters  to  be  used  instead  of  bolting-cloths. 
There  were  a  few  pewter  spoons  in  use;  but  the 
table  furniture  consisted  mainly  of  hand-made 
trenchers,  platters,  noggins,  and  bowls.  The 
cradle  was  of  peeled  hickory  bark.  Plow- 
shares had  to  be  imported,  but  harrows  and  sleds 
were  made  without  difficulty;  and  the  cooper 
work  was  well  done.  Chaff  beds  were  thrown  on 
the  floor  of  the  loft,  if  the  house-owner  was  well 
off.  Each  cabin  had  a  hand-mill  and  a  hominy 
block;  the  last  was  borrowed  from  the  Indians, 
and  was  only  a  large  block  of  wood,  with  a  hole 


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THE  BACKWOODSMEN  39 

burned  in  the  top,  as  a  mortar,  where  the  pestle 
was  worked.  If  there  were  any  sugar  maples 
accessible,  they  were  tapped  every  year. 

But  some  articles,  especially  salt  and  iron, 
could  not  be  produced  in  the  backwoods.  In  or- 
der to  get  them  each  family  collected  during  the 
year  all  the  furs  possible,  these  being  valuable 
and  yet  easily  carried  on  pack-horses,  the  sole 
means  of  transport.  Then,  after  seeding  time, 
in  the  fall,  the  people  of  a  neighborhood  ordi- 
narily joined  in  sending  down  a  train  of  peltry- 
laden  pack-horses  to  some  large  sea-coast  or  tidal- 
river  trading  town,  where  their  burdens  were  bar- 
tered for  the  needed  iron  and  salt.  The  unshod 
horses  all  had  bells  hung  round  their  neck;  the 
clappers  were  stopped  during  the  day,  but  when 
the  train  was  halted  for  the  night,  and  the  horses 
were  hobbled  and  turned  loose,  the  bells  were 
once  more  unstopped.  Several  men  accompa- 
panied  each  little  caravan,  and  sometimes  they 
drove  with  them  steers  and  hogs  to  sell  on  the 
sea-coast.  A  bushel  of  alum  salt  was  worth  a 
good  cow  and  calf,  and  as  each  of  the  poorly 
fed,  undersized  pack  animals  could  carry  but  two 
bushels,  the  mountaineers  prized  it  greatly,  and 
instead  of  salting  or  pickling  their  venison,  they 
jerked  it,  by  drying  it  in  the  sun  or  smoking  it 
over  a  fire. 


40         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 
IV.      THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  EXISTENCE. 

The  life  of  the  backwoodsmen  was  one  long 
struggle.  The  forest  had  to  be  felled,  droughts, 
deep  snows,  freshets,  cloudbursts,  forest  fires, 
and  all  the  other  dangers  of  a  wilderness  life 
faced.  Swarms  of  deer-flies,  mosquitoes,  and 
midges  rendered  life  a  torment  in  the  weeks  of 
hot  weather.  Rattlesnakes  and  copperheads 
were  very  plentiful,  and  the  former  especially, 
constant  sources  of  danger  and  death.  Wolves 
and  bears  were  incessant  and  inveterate  foes  of 
the  live  stock,  and  the  cougar  or  panther  occa- 
sionally attacked  man  as  well.  More  terrible 
still,  the  wolves  sometimes  went  mad,  and  the 
men  who  then  encountered  them  were  almost  cer- 
tain to  be  bitten  and  to  die  of  hydrophobia. 

Everv    true    backwoodsman    was    a    hunter. 

mi 

Wild  turkeys  were  plentiful.  The  pigeons  at 
times  filled  the  woods  with  clouds  that  hid  the 
sun  and  broke  down  the  branches  on  their  roost- 
ing grounds  as  if  a  whirlwind  had  passed.  The 
black  and  gray  squirrels  swarmed,  devastating 
the  corn-fields,  and  at  times  gathering  in  im- 
mense companies  and  migrating  across  mountain 
and  river.  The  hunters'  ordinary  game  was  the 
deer,  and  after  that  the  bear ;  the  elk  was  already 
growing    uncommon.     No    form    of    labor    is 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  41 

harder  than  the  chase,  and  none  is  so  fascinating 
nor  so  excellent  as  a  training-school  for  war. 
The  successful  still-hunter  of  necessity  possessed 
skill  in  hiding  and  in  creeping  noiselessly  upon 
the  wary  quarry,  as  well  as  in  imitating  the  notes 
and  calls  of  the  different  beasts  and  birds;  skill 
in  the  use  of  the  rifle  and  in  throwing  the  toma- 
hawk he  already  had;  and  he  perforce  acquired 
keenness  of  eye,  thorough  acquaintance  with 
woodcraft,  and  the  power  of  standing  the  sever- 
est strains  of  fatigue,  hardship  and  exposure. 
He  lived  out  in  the  woods  for  many  months  with 
no  food  but  meat,  and  no  shelter  whatever,  un- 
less he  made  a  lean-to  of  brush  or  crawled  into  a 
hollow  sycamore. 

Such  training  stood  the  frontier  folk  in  good 
stead  when  they  were  pitted  against  the  Indians ; 
without  it  they  could  not  even  have  held  their 
own,  and  the  white  advance  would  have  been  ab- 
solutely checked.  Our  frontiers  were  pushed 
westward  by  the  warlike  skill  and  adventurous 
personal  prowess  of  the  individual  settlers ;  regu- 
lar armies  by  themselves  could  have  done  little. 
For  one  square  mile  the  regular  armies  added 
to  our  domain,  the  settlers  added  ten, — a  hundred 
would  probably  be  nearer  the  truth.  A  race  of 
peaceful,  unwarlike  farmers  would  have  been 
helpless  before  such  foes  as  the  red  Indians,  and 


42         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

no  auxiliary  military  force  would  have  protected 
them  or  enabled  them  to  move  westward.  Col- 
onists fresh  from  the  old  world,  no  matter  how 
thrifty,  steady-going,  and  industrious,  could  not 
hold  their  own  on  the  frontier ;  they  had  to  settle 
where  they  were  protected  from  the  Indians  by 
a  living  barrier  of  bold  and  self-reliant  American 
borderers.  The  west  would  never  have  been  set- 
tled save  for  the  fierce  courage  and  the  eager  de- 
sire to  brave  danger  so  characteristic  of  the  stal- 
wart backwoodsmen. 

These  armed  hunters,  woodchoppers,  and 
farmers  were  their  own  soldiers.  They  built  and 
manned  their  own  forts ;  they  did  their  own  fight- 
ing under  their  own  commanders.  There  were 
no  regiments  of  regular  troops  along  the  fron- 
tier. In  the  event  of  an  Indian  inroad  each  bor- 
derer had  to  defend  himself  until  there  was  time 
for  them  all  to  gather  together  to  repel  or  avenge 
it.  Every  man  was  accustomed  to  the  use  of 
arms  from  his  childhood;  when  a  boy  was  twelve 
years  old  he  was  given  a  rifle  and  made  a  fort- 
soldier,  with  a  loophole  where  he  was  to  stand 
if  the  station  was  attacked.  The  war  was  never- 
ending,  for  even  the  times  of  so-called  peace 
were  broken  by  forays  and  murders;  a  man 
might  grow  from  babyhood  to  middle  age  on  the 
border,  and  yet  never  remember  a  year  in  which 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  43 

some  one  of  his  neighbors  did  not  fall  a  victim 
to  the  Indians. 

There  was  everywhere  a  rude  military  organi- 
zation, which  included  all  the  able-bodied  men  of 
the  community.  Every  settlement  had  its  col- 
onels and  captains ;  but  these  officers,  both  in  their 
training  and  in  the  authority  they  exercised,  cor- 
responded much  more  nearly  to  Indian  chiefs 
than  to  the  regular  army  men  whose  titles  they 
bore.  They  had  no  means  whatever  of  en- 
forcing their  orders,  and  their  tumultuous  and 
disorderly  levies  of  sinewy  riflemen  were  hardly 
as  well  disciplined  as  the  Indians  themselves. 
The  superior  officer  could  advise,  entreat,  lead, 
and  influence  his  men,  but  he  could  not  command 
them,  or,  if  he  did,  the  men  obeyed  him  only  just 
so  far  as  it  suited  them.  If  an  officer  planned  a 
scout  or  campaign,  those  who  thought  proper  ac- 
companied him,  and  the  others  stayed  at  home, 
and  even  those  who  went  out  came  back  if  the 
fit  seized  them,  or  perchance  followed  the  lead  of 
an  insubordinate  junior  officer  whom  they  liked 
better  than  they  did  his  superior.  There  was  no 
compulsion  to  perform  military  duties  beyond 
dread  of  being  disgraced  in  the  eyes  of  the  neigh- 
bors, and  there  was  no  pecuniary  reward  for  per- 
forming them;  nevertheless,  the  moral  sentiment 
of  a  backwoods  community  was  too  robust  to  tol- 


44        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

erate  habitual  remissness  in  military  affairs,  and 
the  coward  and  laggard  were  treated  with  utter 
scorn,  and  were  generally  in  the  end  either 
laughed  out,  or  "hated  out,"  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, or  else  got  rid  of  in  a  still  more  summary 
manner.  Among  a  people  naturally  brave  and 
reckless,  this  public  opinion  acted  fairly  effect- 
ively, and  there  was  generally  but  little  shrink- 
ing from  military  service. 

A  backwoods  levy  was  formidable  because  of 
the  high  average  courage  and  prowess  of  the  in- 
dividuals composing  it ;  it  was  on  its  own  ground 
much  more  effective  than  a  like  force  of  regular 
soldiers,  but  of  course  it  could  not  be  trusted  on 
a  long  campaign.  The  backwoodsmen  used 
their  rifles  better  than  the  Indians,  and  also  stood 
punishment  better,  but  they  never  matched  them 
in  surprises  nor  in  skill  in  taking  advantage  of 
cover,  and  very  rarely  equaled  their  discipline  in 
the  battle  itself.  After  all,  the  pioneer  was  pri- 
marily a  husbandman;  the  time  spent  in  chop- 
ping trees  and  tilling  the  soil  his  foe  spent  in 
preparing  for  or  practising  forest  warfare,  and 
so  the  former,  thanks  to  the  exercise  of  the  verv 
qualities  which  in  the  end  gave  him  the  posses- 
sion of  the  soil,  could  not,  as  a  rule,  hope  to  rival 
his  antagonist  in  the  actual  conflict  itself. 
When  large  bodies  of  the  red  men  and  white 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  45 

borderers  were  pitted  against  each  other,  the 
former  were  if  anything  the  more  likely  to  have 
the  advantage.  But  the  whites  soon  copied  from 
the  Indians  their  system  of  individual  and  pri- 
vate warfare,  and  they  probably  caused  their 
foes  far  more  damage  and  loss  in  this  way  than 
in  the  large  expeditions.  Many  noted  border 
scouts  and  Indian  fighters — such  men  as  Boone, 
Kenton,  Wetzel,  Brady,  McCulloch,  Mansker — 
grew  to  overmatch  their  Indian  foes  at  their  own 
game,  and  held  themselves  above  the  most  re- 
nowned warriors.  But  these  men  carried  the 
spirit  of  defiant  self-reliance  to  such  an  extreme 
that  their  best  work  was  always  done  when  they 
were  alone  or  in  small  parties  of  but  four  or  five. 
They  made  long  forays  after  scalps  and  horses, 
going  a  wonderful  distance,  enduring  extreme 
hardship,  risking  the  most  terrible  of  deaths,  and 
harrying  the  hostile  tribes  into  a  madness  of  ter- 
ror and  revengeful  hatred. 

V.       THE  LAW"  OF  THE  LAND. 

As  it  was  in  military  matters,  so  it  was  with 
the  administration  of  justice  by  the  frontiers- 
men; they  had  few  courts,  and  knew  but  little 
law,  and  yet  they  contrived  to  preserve  order  and 
morality  with  rough  effectiveness,  by  combining 


46        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

to  frown  down  on  the  grosser  misdeeds,  and  to 
punish  the  more  flagrant  misdoers.  Perhaps  the 
spirit  in  which  they  acted  can  be  best  shown  by 
the  recital  of  an  incident  in  the  career  of  the  three 
McAfee  brothers,  who  were  among  the  pioneer 
hunters  of  Kentucky.  Previous  to  trying  to 
move  their  families  out  to  the  new  country,  they 
made  a  cache  of  clothing,  implements,  and  pro- 
visions, which  in  their  absence  was  broken  into 
and  plundered.  They  caught  the  thief,  "a  lit- 
tle diminutive,  red-headed  white  man,"  a  run- 
away convict  servant  from  one  of  the  tide-water 
counties  of  Virginia.  In  the  first  impulse  of  an- 
ger at  finding  that  he  was  the  criminal,  one  of 
the  McAfees  rushed  at  him  to  kill  him  with  his 
tomahawk;  but  the  weapon  turned,  the  man  was 
only  knocked  down,  and  his  assailant's  gusty 
anger  subsided  as  quickly  as  it  had  risen,  giving 
way  to  a  desire  to  do  stern  but  fair  justice.  So 
the  three  captors  formed  themselves  into  a  court, 
examined  into  the  case,  heard  the  man  in  his  own 
defence,  and  after  due  consultation  decided  that 
"according  to  their  opinion  of  the  laws  he  had 
forfeited  his  life,  and  ought  to  be  hung";  but 
none  of  them  were  willing  to  execute  the  sentence 
in  cold  blood,  and  they  ended  by  taking  their 
prisoner  back  to  his  master. 

The  incident  was  characteristic  in  more  than 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  47 

one  way.  The  prompt  desire  of  the  backwoods- 
man to  avenge  his  own  wrong;  his  momentary 
furious  anger,  speedily  quelled  and  replaced  by 
a  dogged  determination  to  be  fair  but  to  exact 
full  retribution;  the  acting  entirely  without  re- 
gard to  legal  forms  or  legal  officials,  but  yet  in 
a  spirit  which  spoke  well  for  the  doer's  deter- 
mination to  uphold  the  essentials  that  make  hon- 
est men  law-abiding ;  together  with  the  good  faith 
of  the  whole  proceeding,  and  the  amusing  igno- 
rance that  it  would  have  been  in  the  least  unlaw- 
ful to  execute  their  own  rather  harsh  sentence — 
all  these  were  typical  frontier  traits. 

The  McAfees  themselves  and  the  escaped  con- 
vict servant  whom  they  captured  typify  the  two 
prominent  classes  of  the  backwoods  people.  The 
frontier,  in  spite  of  the  outward  uniformity  of 
means  and  manners,  is  preeminently  the  place  of 
sharp  contrasts.  The  two  extremes  of  society, 
the  strongest,  best,  and  most  adventurous,  and 
the  weakest,  most  shiftless,  and  vicious,  are  those 
which  seem  naturally  to  drift  to  the  border.  \ 
Most  of  the  men  who  came  to  the  backwoods  to 
hew  out  homes  and  rear  families  were  stern, 
manly,  and  honest ;  but  there  was  also  a  large  in- 
flux of  people  drawn  from  the  worst  immigrants 
that  perhaps  ever  were  brought  to  America — the 
mass  of  convict  servants,  redemptioners,  and  the 


48         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

like,  who  formed  such  an  excessively  undesirable 
substratum  to  the  otherwise  excellent  population 
of  the  tide-water  regions  in  Virginia  and  the  Car- 
olinas.  Many  of  the  southern  crackers  or  poor 
whites  spring  from  this  class,  which  also  in  the 
backwoods  gave  birth  to  generations  of  violent 
and  hardened  criminals,  and  to  an  even  greater 
number  of  shiftless,  lazy,  cowardly  cumberers  of 
the  earth's  surface.  They  had  in  many  places 
a  permanently  bad  effect  upon  the  tone  of  the 
whole  community. 

In  the  backwoods  the  lawless  led  lives  of  aban- 
doned wickedness;  they  hated  good  for  good's 
sake,  and  did  their  utmost  to  destroy  it.  Where 
the  bad  element  was  large,  gangs  of  horse 
thieves,  highwaymen,  and  other  criminals  often 
united  with  the  uncontrollable  young  men  of 
vicious  tastes  who  were  given  to  gambling,  fight- 
ing, and  the  like.  They  then  formed  half-secret 
organizations,  often  of  great  extent  and  with 
wide  ramifications ;  and  if  they  could  control  a 
community  they  established  a  reign  of  terror, 
driving  out  both  ministers  and  magistrates,  and 
killing  without  scruple  those  who  interfered  with 
them.  The  good  men  in  such  a  case  banded 
themselves  together  as  regulators  and  put  down 
the  wicked  with  ruthless  severity,  by  the  exercise 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  49 

of  lynch  law,  shooting  and  hanging  the  worst 
off-hand. 

Jails  were  scarce  in  the  wilderness,  and  often 
were  entirely  wanting  in  a  district,  which,  in- 
deed, was  quite  likely  to  lack  legal  officers  also. 
If  punishment  was  inflicted  at  all  it  was  apt  to  ^ 
be  severe,  and  took  the  form  of  death  or  whip- 
ping. An  impromptu  jury  of  neighbors  de- 
cided with  a  rough  and  ready  sense  of  fair  play 
and  justice  what  punishment  the  crime  de- 
manded, and  then  saw  to  the  execution  of  their 
own  decree.  Whipping  was  the  usual  reward  of 
theft.  Occasionally  torture  was  resorted  to,  but 
not  often ;  but  to  their  honor  be  it  said,  the  back- 
woodsmen were  horrified  at  the  treatment  ac- 
corded both  to  black  slaves  and  to  white  convict 
servants  in  the  lowlands. 

They  were  superstitious,  of  course,  believing 
in  witchcraft,  and  signs  and  omens;  and  it  may 
be  noted  that  their  superstition  showed  a  singu- 
lar mixture  of  old-world  survivals  and  of  prac- 
tices borrowed  from  the  savages  or  evolved  by 
the  very  force  of  their  strange  surroundings. 
At  the  bottom  they  were  deeply  religious  in  their 
tendencies ;  and  although  ministers  and  meeting- 
houses were  rare,  yet  the  backwoods  cabins  often 
contained  Bibles,  and  the  mothers  used  to  instil 


50         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

into  the  minds  of  their  children  reverence  for 
Sunday,  while  many  even  of  the  hunters  refused 
to  hunt  on  that  day.  Those  of  them  who  knew 
the  right  honestly  tried  to  live  up  to  it,  in  spite 
of  the  manifold  temptations  to  backsliding  of- 
fered by  their  lives  of  hard  and  fierce  contention. 
But  Calvinism,  though  more  congenial  to  them 
than  Episcopacy,  and  infinitely  more  so  than 
Catholicism,  was  too  cold  for  the  fiery  hearts  of 
the  borderers ;  they  were  not  stirred  to  the  depths 
of  their  natures  till  other  creeds,  and,  above  all, 
Methodism,  worked  their  way  to  the  wilder- 
ness. 

Thus  the  backwoodsmen  lived  on  the  clearings 
they  had  hewed  out  of  the  everlasting  forest;  a 
grim,  stern  people,  strong  and  simple,  powerful 
for  good  and  evil,  swayed  by  gusts  of  stormy 
passion,  the  love  of  freedom  rooted  in  their  very 
hearts'  core.  Their  lives  were  harsh  and  nar- 
row; they  gained  their  bread  by  their  blood  and 
sweat,  in  the  unending  struggle  with  the  wild 
ruggedness  of  nature.  They  suffered  terrible 
injuries  at  the  hands  of  the  red  men,  and  on  their 
foes  they  waged  a  terrible  warfare  in  return. 
They  were  relentless,  revengeful,  suspicious, 
knowing  neither  ruth  nor  pity;  they  were  also 
upright,   resolute,    and   fearless,   loyal  to  their 


THE  BACKWOODSMEN  51 

friends,  and  devoted  to  their  country.  In  spite 
of  their  many  failings,  they  were  of  all  men  the 
best  fitted  to  conquer  the  wilderness  and  hold  it 
against  all  comers. 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK  AND  THE 
CONQUEST  OF  THE  NORTHWEST 


*  I 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK  AND  THE 
CONQUEST  OF  THE  NORTHWEST 

IN  1776,  when  independence  was  declared,  the 
United  States  included  only  the  thirteen 
original  States  on  the  sea-board.  With  the 
exception  of  a  few  hunters  there  were  no  white 
men  west  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains,  and 
there  was  not  even  an  American  hunter  in  the 
great  country  out  of  which  we  have  since  made 
the  States  of  Illinois,  Indiana,  Ohio,  Michigan, 
and  Wisconsin.  All  this  region  north  of  the 
Ohio  River  then  formed  a  part  of  the  Province 
of  Quebec.  It  was  a  wilderness  of  forests  and 
prairies,  teeming  with  game,  and  inhabited  by 
many  warlike  tribes  of  Indians. 

Here  and  there  through  it  were  dotted  quaint 
little  towns  of  French  Creoles,  the  most  impor- 
tant being  Detroit,  Vincennes  on  the  Wabash, 
and  Kaskaskia  and  Kahokia  on  the  Illinois. 
These  French  villages  were  ruled  by  British  offi- 
cers commanding  small  bodies  of  regular  soldiers 
or  Tory  rangers  and  Creole  partizans.  The 
towns  were  completely  in  the  power  of  the  Brit- 

55 


56         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

ish  government;  none  of  the  American  States 
had  actual  possession  of  a  foot  of  property  in 
the  Northwestern  Territory. 

The  Northwest  was  acquired  in  the  midst  of 
the  Revolution  only  by  armed  conquest,  and  if 
it  had  not  been  so  acquired,  it  would  have  re- 
mained a  part  of  the  British  Dominion  of 
Canada. 

The  man  to  whom  this  conquest  was  due  was 
a  famous  backwoods  leader,  a  mighty  hunter,  a 
noted  Indian-fighter,  George  Rogers  Clark. 
He  was  a  very  strong  man,  with  light  hair  and 
blue  eyes.  He  was  of  good  Virginian  family. 
Early  in  his  youth  he  embarked  on  the  adventur- 
ous career  of  a  backwoods  surveyor,  exactly  as 
Washington  and  so  many  other  young  Virgin- 
ians of  spirit  did  at  that  period.  He  traveled 
out  to  Kentucky  soon  after  it  was  founded  by 
Boone,  and  lived  there  for  a  year,  either  at  the 
stations  or  camping  by  himself  in  the  woods,  sur- 
veying, hunting,  and  making  war  against  the 
Indians  like  any  other  settler ;  but  all  the  time  his 
mind  was  bent  on  vaster  schemes  than  were 
dreamed  of  by  the  men  around  him.  He  had  his 
spies  out  in  the  Northwestern  Territory,  and  be- 
came convinced  that  with  a  small  force  of  reso- 
lute backwoodsmen  he  could  conquer  it  for  the 
United  States.     When  he  went  back  to  Virginia, 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK       57 

Governor  Patrick  Henry  entered  heartily  into 
Clark's  schemes  and  gave  him  authority  to  fit 
out  a  force  for  his  purpose. 

In  1778,  after  encountering  endless  difficulties 
and  delays,  he  finally  raised  a  hundred  and  fifty 
backwoods  riflemen.  In  May  they  started  down 
the  Ohio  in  flatboats  to  undertake  the  allotted 
task.  They  drifted  and  rowed  downstream  to 
the  Falls  of  the  Ohio,  where  Clark  founded  a 
log-hamlet,  which  has  since  become  the  great  city 
of  Louisville. 

Here  he  halted  for  some  days  and  was  joined 
by  fifty  or  sixty  volunteers ;  but  a  number  of  the 
men  deserted,  and  when,  after  an  eclipse  of  the 
sun,  Clark  again  pushed  off  to  go  down  with  the 
current,  his  force  was  but  about  one  hundred  and 
sixty  riflemen.  All,  however,  were  men  on  whom 
he  could  depend — men  well  used  to  frontier  war- 
fare. They  were  tall,  stalwart  backwoodsmen, 
clad  in  the  hunting-shirt  and  leggings  that 
formed  the  national  dress  of  their  kind,  and 
armed  with  the  distinctive  weapon  of  the  back- 
woods, the  long-barreled,  small-bore  rifle. 

Before  reaching  the  Mississippi  the  little  flo- 
tilla landed,  and  Clark  led  his  men  northward 
against  the  Illinois  towns.  In  one  of  them,  Kas- 
kaskia,  dwelt  the  British  commander  of  the  en- 
tire district  up  to  Detroit.     The  small  garrison 


58        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

and  the  Creole  militia  taken  together  outnum- 
bered Clark's  force,  and  they  were  in  close  alli- 
ance with  the  Indians  roundabout.  Clark  was 
anxious  to  take  the  town  by  surprise  and  avoid 
bloodshed,  as  he  believed  he  could  win  over  the 
Creoles  to  the  American  side.  Marching  cau- 
tiously by  night  and  generally  hiding  by  day,  he 
came  to  the  outskirts  of  the  little  village  on  the 
evening  of  July  4,  and  lay  in  the  woods  near  by 
until  after  nightfall. 

Fortune  favored  him.  That  evening  the  offi- 
cers of  the  garrison  had  given  a  great  ball  to  the 
mirth-loving  Creoles,  and  almost  the  entire  pop- 
ulation of  the  village  had  gathered  in  the  fort, 
where  the  dance  was  held.  While  the  revelry  was 
at  its  height,  Clark  and  his  tall  backwoodsmen, 
treading  silently  through  the  darkness,  came  into 
the  town,  surprised  the  sentries,  and  surrounded 
the  fort  without  causing  any  alarm. 

All  the  British  and  French  capable  of  bearing 
arms  were  gathered  in  the  fort  to  take  part  in  or 
look  on  at  the  merrymaking.  When  his  men 
were  posted  Clark  walked  boldly  forward 
through  the  open  door,  and,  leaning  against  the 
wall,  looked  at  the  dancers  as  they  whirled  around 
in  the  light  of  the  flaring  torches.  For  some 
moments  no  one  noticed  him.  Then  an  Indian 
who  had  been  lying  with  his  chin  on  his  hand, 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK       59 

looking  carefully  over  the  gaunt  figure  of  the 
stranger,  sprang  to  his  feet  and  uttered  the  wild 
war-whoop.  Immediately  the  dancing  ceased 
and  the  men  ran  to  and  fro  in  confusion;  but 
Clark,  stepping  forward,  bade  them  be  at  their 
ease,  but  to  remember  that  henceforth  they 
danced  under  the  flag  of  the  United  States,  and 
not  under  that  of  Great  Britain. 

The  surprise  was  complete  and  no  resistance 
was  attempted.  For  twenty-four  hours  the  Cre- 
oles were  in  abject  terror.  Then  Clark  sum- 
moned their  chief  men  together  and  explained 
that  he  came  as  their  ally  and  not  as  their  foe, 
and  that  if  they  would  join  with  him  they  should 
be  citizens  of  the  American  republic  and  treated 
in  all  respects  on  an  equality  with  their  comrades. 
The  Creoles,  caring  little  for  the  British,  and 
rather  fickle  of  nature,  accepted  the  proposition 
with  joy  and  with  the  most  enthusiastic  loyalty 
toward  Clark.  Not  only  that,  but  sending  mes- 
sengers to  their  kinsmen  on  the  Wabash,  they 
persuaded  the  people  of  Vincennes  likewise  to 
cast  off  their  allegiance  to  the  British  king  and 
to  hoist  the  American  flag. 

So  far,  Clark  had  conquered  with  greater  ease 
than  he  had  dared  to  hope.  But  when  the  news 
reached  the  British  governor,  Hamilton,  at  De- 
troit, he  at  once  prepared  to  reconquer  the  land. 


60         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

He  had  much  greater  forces  at  his  command  than 
Clark  had ;  and  in  the  fall  of  that  year  he  came 
down  to  Vincennes  by  stream  and  portage,  in  a 
great  fleet  of  canoes  bearing  five  hundred  fight- 
ing men — British  regulars,  French  partizans  and 
Indians.  The  Vincennes  Creoles  refused  to 
fight  against  the  British,  and  the  American  offi- 
cer who  had  been  sent  thither  by  Clark  had  no 
alternative  but  to  surrender. 

If  Hamilton  had  then  pushed  on  and  struck 
Clark  in  Illinois,  having  more  than  treble  Clark's 
force,  he  could  hardly  have  failed  to  win  the  vic- 
tory; but  the  season  was  late  and  the  journey  so 
difficult  that  he  did  not  believe  it  could  be  taken. 
Accordingly  he  disbanded  the  Indians  and  sent 
some  of  his  troops  back  to  Detroit,  announcing 
that  when  spring  came  he  would  march  against 
Clark  in  Illinois. 

If  Clark  in  turn  had  awaited  the  blow  he 
would  have  surely  met  defeat;  but  he  was  a 
greater  man  than  his  antagonist,  and  he  did  what 
the  other  deemed  impossible. 

Finding  that  Hamilton  had  sent  home  some 
of  his  troops  and  dispersed  all  his  Indains,  Clark 
realized  that  his  chance  was  to  strike  before  Ham- 
ilton's soldiers  assembled  again  in  the  spring. 
Accordingly  he  gathered  together  the  pick  of  his 
men,  together  with  a  few  Creoles,  one  hundred 


1  1 


*' All  day  long  the  troops  waded  in  iey  water." 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK       63 

and  seventy  all  told,  and  set  out  for  Vincennes. 
At  first  the  journey  was  easy  enough,  for  they 
passed  across  the  snowy  Illinois  prairies,  broken 
by  great  reaches  of  lofty  woods.  They  killed 
elk,  buffalo  and  deer  for  food,  there  being  no 
difficulty  in  getting  all  they  wanted  to  eat;  and 
at  night  they  built  huge  fires  by  which  to  sleep, 
and  feasted  "like  Indian  war-dancers,"  as  Clark 
said  in  his  report. 

But  when,  in  the  middle  of  February,  they 
reached  the  drowned  lands  of  the  Wabash,  where 
the  ice  had  just  broken  up  and  everything  was 
flooded,  the  difficulties  seemed  almost  insuperable 
and  the  march  became  painful  and  laborious  to  a 
degree.  All  day  long  the  troops  waded  in  the 
icy  water  and  at  night  they  could  with  difficulty 
find  some  little  hillock  on  which  to  sleep.  Only 
Clark's  indomitable  courage  and  cheerfulness 
kept  the  party  in  heart  and  enabled  them  to  per- 
severe. However,  persevere  they  did,  and  at 
last,  on  February  23,  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
town  of  Vincennes.  They  captured  a  Creole 
who  was  out  shooting  ducks,  and  from  him 
learned  that  their  approach  was  utterly  unsus- 
pected and  that  there  were  many  Indians  in 
town. 

Clark  was  now  in  some  doubt  as  to  how  to 
make  his  fight.     The  British  regulars  dwelt  in  a 


64         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

small  fort  at  one  end  of  the  town,  where  they  had 
two  light  guns ;  but  Clark  feared  lest  if  he  made 
a  sudden  night  attack  the  townspeople  and  In- 
dians would  from  sheer  fright  turn  against  him. 
He  accordingly  arranged,  just  before  he  himself 
marched  in,  to  send  in  the  captured  duck-hunter, 
conveying  a  warning  to  the  Indians  and  the  Cre- 
oles that  he  was  about  to  attack  the  town,  but 
that  his  only  quarrel  was  with  the  British,  and 
that  if  the  other  inhabitants  would  stay  in  their 
own  homes  they  would  not  be  molested. 

Sending  the  duck-hunter  ahead,  Clark  took  up 
his  march  and  entered  the  town  just  after  night- 
fall. The  news  conveyed  by  the  released  hunter 
astounded  the  townspeople  and  they  talked  it 
over  eagerly  and  were  in  doubt  what  to  do.  The 
Indians,  not  knowing  how  great  might  be  the 
force  that  would  assail  the  town,  at  once  took 
refuge  in  the  neighboring  woods,  while  the  Cre- 
oles retired  to  their  own  houses.  The  British 
knew  nothing  of  what  had  happened  until  the 
Americans  had  actually  entered  the  streets  of  the 
little  village.  Rushing  forward,  Clark's  men 
soon  penned  the  regulars  within  their  fort,  where 
they  kept  them  surrounded  all  night.  The  next 
day  a  party  of  Indian  warriors,  who  in  the  Brit- 
ish interest  had  been  ravaging  the  settlements  of 
Kentucky,  arrived  and  entered  the  town,  igno- 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK       65 

rant  that  the  Americans  had  captured  it. 
Marching  boldly  forward  to  the  fort,  they  sud- 
denly found  it  beleaguered,  and  before  they 
could  flee  they  were  seized  by  the  backwoodsmen. 
In  their  belts  they  carried  the  scalps  of  the  slain 
settlers.  The  savages  were  taken  red-handed 
and  the  American  frontiersmen  were  in  no  mood 
to  show  mercy.  All  the  Indians  were  toma- 
hawked in  sight  of  the  fort. 

For  some  time  the  British  defended  themselves 
well;  but  at  length  their  guns  were  disabled,  all 
of  the  gunners  being  picked  off  by  the  back- 
woods marksmen,  and  finally  the  garrison  dared 
not  so  much  as  appear  at  a  port-hole,  so  deadly 
was  the  fire  from  the  long  rifles.  Under  such 
circumstances  Hamilton  was  forced  to  surrender. 

No  attempt  was  afterward  made  to  molest  the 
Americans  in  the  land  they  had  won,  and  upon 
the  conclusion  of  peace  the  Northwest,  which  had 
been  conquered  by  Clark,  became  part  of  the 
United  States. 


LEWIS  AND   CLARK  AND   THE   EX- 
PLORATION OF  THE  FAR  WEST 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  AND  THE  EX- 
PLORATION OF  THE  FAR  WEST 

I.    PURPOSE  OF  THE  EXPLORATION. 

THE  Far  West,  the  West  beyond  the  Missis- 
sippi, had  been  thrust  on  Jefferson,  and 
given  to  the  nation,  by  the  rapid  growth  of 
the  Old  West,  the  West  that  lay  between  the  Al- 
leghanies  and  the  Mississippi.  The  actual  title 
to  the  new  territory  had  been  acquired  by  the 
United  States  Government,  acting  for  the  wThole 
nation.  It  remained  to  explore  the  territory  thus 
newly  added  to  the  national  domain.  The  Gov- 
ernment did  not  yet  know  exactly  what  it  had 
acquired,  for  the  land  was  not  only  unmapped, 
but  unexplored.  Nobody  could  tell  what  were 
the  boundary  lines  which  divided  it  from  British 
America  on  the  north  and  Mexico  on  the  south, 
for  nobody  knew  much  of  the  country  through 
which  these  lines  ran;  of  most  of  it,  indeed,  no- 
body knew  anything.  On  the  new  maps  the 
country  now  showed  as  part  of  the  United  States ; 
but  the  Indians  who  alone  inhabited  it  were  as 

69 


70        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

little  affected  by  the  transfer  as  was  the  game 
they  hunted. 

Beyond  the  Mississippi  all  that  was  really  well 
known  was  the  territory  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood of  the  little  French  villages  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Missouri.  The  Creole  traders  of 
these  villages,  and  an  occasional  venturous  Amer- 
ican, had  gone  up  the  Mississippi  to  the  country 
of  the  Sioux  and  the  Mandans,  where  they  had 
trapped  and  hunted  and  traded  for  furs  with  the 
Indians.  At  the  northernmost  points  that  they 
reached  they  occasionally  encountered  traders 
who  had  traveled  south  or  southwesterly  from 
the  wintry  regions  where  the  British  fur  compa- 
nies reigned  supreme.  The  headwaters  of  the 
Missouri  were  absolutely  unknown;  nobody  had 
penetrated  the  great  plains,  the  vast  seas  of  grass 
through  which  the  Platte,  the  Little  Missouri  and 
the  Yellowstone  ran.  What  lay  beyond  them 
and  between  them  and  the  Pacific  was  not  even 
guessed  at.  The  Rocky  Mountains  were  not 
known  to  exist,  so  far  as  the  territory  newly  ac- 
quired by  the  United  States  was  concerned,  al- 
though under  the  name  of  "Stonies"  their  north- 
ern extensions  in  British  America  were  already 
down  on  some  maps. 

The  work  of  exploring  these  new  lands  fell, 
not  to  the  wild  hunters  and  trappers,  such  as 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  71 

those  who  had  first  explored  Kentucky  and  Ten- 
nessee, but  to  officers  of  the  United  States  army, 
leading  parties  of  United  States  soldiers,  in 
pursuance  of  the  command  of  the  Govern- 
ment or  of  its  representatives.  The  earliest  and 
most  important  expeditions  of  Americans  into 
the  unknown  country  which  the  nation  had  just 
purchased  were  led  by  young  officers  of  the  regu- 
lar army. 

The  first  of  these  expeditions  was  planned  by 
Jefferson  himself  and  authorized  by  Congress. 
Nominally  its  purpose  was  in  part  to  find  out  the 
most  advantageous  places  for  the  establishment 
of  trading  stations  with  the  Indian  tribes  over 
which  our  Government  had  acquired  the  titular 
suzerainty ;  but  in  reality  it  was  purely  a  voyage 
of  exploration,  planned  with  intent  to  ascend  the 
Missouri  to  its  head,  and  thence  to  cross  the  con- 
tinent to  the  Pacific.  The  explorers  were  care- 
fully instructed  to  report  upon  the  geography, 
physical  characteristics  and  zoology  of  the  region 
traversed,  as  well  as  upon  its  wild  human  deni- 
zens. 

The  two  officers  chosen  to  carry  through  the 
work  belonged  to  families  already  honorably  dis- 
tinguished for  service  on  the  Western  border. 
One  was  Captain  Meriwether  Lewis,  representa- 
tives of  whose  family  had  served  so  prominently 


72         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

in  Dunmore's  war;  the  other  was  Lieutenant  (by 
courtesy  Captain)  William  Clark,  a  younger 
brother  of  George  Rogers  Clark.  Clark  had 
served  with  credit  through  Wayne's  campaigns, 
and  had  taken  part  in  the  victory  of  the  Fallen 
Timbers.  Lewis  had  seen  his  first  service  when 
he  enlisted  as  a  private  in  the  forces  which  were 
marshalled  to  put  down  the  whisky  insurrection. 
Later  he  served  under  Clark  in  Wayne's  army. 
He  had  also  been  President  Jefferson's  private 
secretary. 

II.      START   OF   THE   EXPEDITION. 

The  young  officers  started  on  their  trip  accom- 
panied by  twenty-seven  men  who  intended  to 
make  the  whole  journey.  Of  this  number,  one, 
the  interpreter  and  incidentally  the  best  hunter 
of  the  party,  was  a  half-breed ;  two  were  French 
voyageurs;  one  was  a  negro  servant  of  Clark; 
nine  were  volunteers  from  Kentucky;  and  four- 
teen were  regular  soldiers.  All,  however,  except 
the  black  slave,  were  enlisted  in  the  army  before 
starting,  so  that  they  might  be  kept  under  regu- 
lar discipline.  In  addition  to  these  twenty-seven 
men  there  were  seven  soldiers  and  nine  voyageurs 
who  started  only  to  go  to  the  Mandan  villages 
on  the  Missouri,  where  the  party  intended  to 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  73 

spend  the  first  winter.  They  embarked  in  three 
large  boats,  abundantly  supplied  with  arms,  pow- 
der and  lead,  clothing,  gifts  for  the  Indians,  and 
provisions. 

The  starting  point  was  St.  Louis,  which  had 
only  just  been  surrendered  to  the  United  States 
Government  by  the  Spaniards,  without  any 
French  intermediaries.  The  explorers  pushed 
off  in  May,  1804,  and  soon  began  stemming  the 
strong  current  of  the  muddy  Missouri,  to  whose 
unknown  sources  they  intended  to  ascend.  For 
two  or  three  weeks  they  occasionally  passed  farms 
and  hamlets.  The  most  important  of  the  little 
towns  was  St.  Charles,  where  the  people  were  all 
Creoles;  the  explorers  in  their  journal  com- 
mented upon  the  good  temper  and  vivacity  of 
these  habitants,,  but  dwelt  on  the  shiftlessness 
they  displayed  and  their  readiness  to  sink  back 
towards  savagery,  although  they  were  brave  and 
hardy  enough.  The  next  most  considerable 
town  was  peopled  mainly  by  Americans,  who 
had  already  begun  to  make  numerous  settlements 
in  the  new  land.  The  last  squalid  little  village 
they  passed  claimed  as  one  of  its  occasional  resi- 
dents old  t)aniel  Boone  himself. 

After  leaving  the  final  straggling  log  cabins 
of  the  settled  country,  the  explorers,  with  sails 
and  paddles,  made  their  way  through  what  is  now 


74         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

the  State  of  Missouri.  They  lived  well,  for  their 
hunters  killed  many  deer  and  wild  turkey  and 
some  black  bear  and  beaver,  and  there  was  an 
abundance  of  breeding  water  fowl.  Here  and 
there  were  Indian  encampments,  but  not  many, 
for  the  tribes  had  gone  westward  to  the  great 
plains  of  what  is  now  Kansas  to  hunt  the  buffalo. 
Already  buffalo  and  elk  were  scarce  in  Missouri, 
and  the  party  did  not  begin  to  find  them  in  any 
numbers  until  they  reached  the  neighborhood  of 
what  is  now  southern  Nebraska. 

From  there  onwards  the  game  was  found  in 
vast  herds  and  the  party  began  to  come  upon 
those  characteristic  animals  of  the  Great  Plains 
which  were  as  yet  unknown  to  white  men  of  our 
race.  The  buffalo  and  the  elk  had  once  ranged 
eastward  to  the  Alleghanies  and  were  familiar 
to  early  wanderers  through  the  wooded  wilder- 
ness ;  but  in  no  part  of  the  east  had  their  numbers 
ever  remotely  approached  the  astounding  multi- 
tudes in  which  they  were  found  on  the  Great 
Plains.  The  curious  prong-buck  or  prong- 
horned  antelope  was  unknown  east  of  the  Great 
Plains.  So  was  the  blacktail,  or  mule  deer, 
which  our  adventurers  began  to  find  here  and 
there  as  they  gradually  worked  their  way  north- 
westward. So  were  the  coyotes,  whose  uncanny 
wailing  after  nightfall  varied  the  sinister  bay- 


>     > 


^^MM'j^ 


An  old-time  mountain  man  with  his  ponies. 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  77 

ing  of  the  gray  wolves;  so  were  many  of  the 
smaller  animals,  notably  the  prairie  dogs,  whose 
populous  villages  awakened  the  lively  curiosity 
of  Lewis  and  Clark. 

In  their  note-books  the  two  captains  faith- 
fully described  all  these  new  animals  and  all  the 
strange  sights  they  saw.  Few  explorers  who  did 
and  saw  so  much  that  was  absolutely  new  have 
written  of  their  deeds  with  such  quiet  absence  of 
boastfulness,  and  have  drawn  their  descriptions 
with  such  complete  freedom  from  exaggeration. 

Moreover,  what  was  of  even  greater  impor- 
tance, the  two  young  captains  possessed  in  per- 
fection the  qualities  necessary  to  pilot  such  an 
expedition  through  unknown  lands  and  among 
savage  tribes.  They  kept  good  discipline 
among  the  men;  they  never  hesitated  to  punish 
severely  any  wrong-doer;  but  they  were  never 
over-severe;  and  as  they  did  their  full  part  of 
the  work  and  ran  all  the  risks  and  suffered  all 
the  hardship  exactly  like  the  other  members  of 
the  expedition,  they  were  regarded  by  their  fol- 
lowers with  devoted  affection  and  were  served 
with  loyalty  and  cheerfulness. 

III.       AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 

In  dealing  with  the  Indians  they  showed  good 
humor  and  common-sense  mingled  with  ceaseless 

5 


78         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

vigilance  and  unbending  resolution.  Only  men 
who  possessed  their  tact  and  daring  could  have 
piloted  the  party  safely  among  the  warlike  tribes 
they  encountered.  Any  act  of  weakness  or  tim- 
idity on  the  one  hand,  or  of  harshness  or  cruelty 
on  the  other,  would  have  been  fatal  to  the  expe- 
dition; but  they  were  careful  to  treat  the  tribes 
well  and  to  try  to  secure  their  good-will,  while 
at  the  same  time  putting  an  immediate  stop  to 
any  insolence  or  outrage.  Several  times  they 
were  in  much  jeopardy  when  they  reached  the 
land  of  the  Dakotas  and  passed  among  the  vari- 
ous ferocious  tribes  whom  they  knew,  and  whom 
we  yet  know,  as  the  Sioux.  The  French  traders 
frequently  came  up  river  to  the  country  of  the 
Sioux,  who  often  maltreated  and  robbed  them. 
In  consequence  Lewis  and  Clark  found  that  the 
Sioux  were  inclined  to  regard  the  whites  as  peo- 
ple whom  they  could  safely  oppress.  The  reso- 
lute bearing  of  the  newcomers  soon  taught  them 
that  they  were  in  error,  and  after  a  little  hesita- 
tion the  various  tribes  in  each  case  became 
friendly. 

With  all  the  Indian  tribes  the  two  explorers 
held  councils  and  distributed  presents,  especially 
medals,  among  the  head  chiefs  and  warriors,  in- 
forming them  of  the  transfer  of  the  territory 
from  Spain  to  the  United  States  and  warning 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  79 

them  that  henceforth  they  must  look  to  the  Pres- 
ident as  their  protector  and  not  to  the  King, 
whether  of  England  or  of  Spain.  The  Indians 
all  professed  much  satisfaction  at  the  change, 
which  of  course  they  did  not  in  the  least  under- 
stand, and  for  which  they  cared  nothing.  Their 
easy  acquiescence  gave  much  groundless  satis- 
faction to  Lewis  and  Clark,  who  further,  in  a 
spirit  of  philanthropy,  strove  to  make  each  tribe 
swear  peace  with  its  neighbors.  After  some  hes- 
itation the  tribe  usually  consented  to  this  also, 
and  the  explorers,  greatly  gratified,  passed  on. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  as  soon  as  they  had  dis- 
appeared the  tribes  promptly  went  to  war  again ; 
and  that  in  reality  the  Indians  had  only  the 
vaguest  idea  as  to  what  was  meant  by  the  cere- 
monies and  the  hoisting  of  the  American  flag. 
The  wonder  is  that  Clark,  who  had  already  had 
some  experience  with  Indians,  should  have  sup- 
posed that  the  councils,  advice  and  proclamations 
would  have  any  effect  of  the  kind  hoped  for 
upon  these  wild  savages. 

As  the  fall  weather  grew  cold  the  party 
reached  the  Mandan  village,  where  they  halted 
and  went  into  camp  for  the  winter,  building  huts 
and  a  stout  stockade,  which  they  christened  Fort 
Mandan.  Traders  from  St.  Louis  and  also 
British  traders  from  the  North  reached  these  vil- 


80         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

lages,  and  the  inhabitants  were  accustomed  to 
dealing  with  the  whites.  Throughout  the  winter 
the  party  was  well  treated  by  the  Indians,  and 
kept  in  good  health  and  spirits;  the  journals  fre- 
quently mention  the  fondness  the  men  showed  for 
dancing,  although  without  partners  of  the  oppo- 
site sex.  Yet  they  suffered  much  from  the  ex- 
treme cold,  and  at  times  from  hunger,  for  it  was 
hard  to  hunt  in  the  winter  weather,  and  the  game 
was  thin  and  poor.  Generally  game  could  be 
killed  in  a  day's  hunt  from  the  fort;  but  occa- 
sionally small  parties  of  hunters  went  off  for  a 
trip  of  several  days,  and  returned  laden  with 
meat;  in  one  case  they  killed  thirty-two  deer, 
eleven  elk  and  a  buffalo;  in  another  forty  deer, 
sixteen  elk  and  three  buffalo ;  thirty-six  deer  and 
fourteen  elk,  etc.,  etc.  The  buffalo  remaining 
in  the  neighborhod  during  the  winter  were  mostly 
old  bulls,  too  lean  to  eat;  and  as  the  snows  came 
on  most  of  the  antelope  left  for  the  rugged  coun- 
try farther  west,  swimming  the  Missouri  in 
great  bands.  Before  the  bitter  weather  began 
the  explorers  were  much  interested  by  the  meth- 
ods of  the  Indians  in  hunting,  especially  when 
they  surrounded  and  slaughtered  bands  of  buf- 
falo on  horseback ;  and  by  the  curious  pens,  with 
huge  V-shaped  wings,  into  which  they  drove  an- 
telope. 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  81 

In  the  spring  of  1805,  Lewis  and  Clark  again 
started  westward,  first  sending  down-stream  ten 
of  their  companions,  to  carry  home  the  notes  of 
their  trip  so  far,  and  a  few  valuable  specimens. 
The  party  that  started  westward  numbered 
thirty -two  adults,  all  told;  for  one  sergeant  had 
died  and  two  or  three  persons  had  volunteered 
at  the  Mandan  villages,  including  a  rather  worth- 
less French  "  squaw-man,"  with  an  intelligent 
Indian  wife,  whose  baby  was  but  a  few  weeks 
old. 

From  this  point  onwards,  when  they  began  to 
travel  west  instead  of  north,  the  explorers  were 
in  a  country  where  no  white  man  had  ever  trod. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  the  continent  had  been 
crossed.  The  Spaniards  had  crossed  and  re- 
crossed  it,  for  two  centuries,  farther  south.  In 
British  America  Mackenzie  had  already  pene- 
trated to  the  Pacific,  while  Hearne  had  made  a 
far  more  noteworthy  and  difficult  trip  than  Mac- 
kenzie, when  he  wandered  over  the  terrible  deso- 
lation of  the  Barren  Grounds,  which  lie  under 
the  Arctic  circle.  But  no  man  had  ever  crossed 
or  explored  that  part  of  the  continent  which  the 
United  States  had  just  acquired;  a  part  far  bet- 
ter fitted  to  be  the  home  of  our  stock  than  the  re- 
gions to  the  north  or  south.  It  was  the  explora- 
tions of  Lewis  and  Clark,  and  not  those  of  Mac- 


82        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

kenzie  on  the  north  or  of  the  Spaniards  in  the 
south,  which  were  to  bear  fruit,  because  they 
pointed  the  way  to  the  tens  of  thousands  of  set- 
tlers who  were  to  come  after  them,  and  who  were 
to  build  thriving  commonwealths  in  the  lonely 
wilderness  which  they  had  traversed. 

IV.      IN    THE   GAME   COUNTRY. 

From  the  Little  Missouri  on  to  the  head  of  the 
Missouri  proper  the  explorers  passed  through  a 
region  where  they  saw  few  traces  of  Indians. 
It  literally  swarmed  with  game,  for  it  was  one  of 
the  finest  hunting-grounds  in  all  the  world.  It 
so  continued  for  three  quarters  of  a  century. 
Until  after  1880  the  region  around  the  Little 
Missouri  was  essentially  unchanged  from  what 
it  was  in  the  days  of  Lewis  and  Clark;  game 
swarmed,  and  the  few  white  hunters  and  trap- 
pers who  followed  the  buffalo,  the  elk  and  the 
beaver  were  still  at  times  in  conflict  with  hunt- 
ing parties  from  various  Indian  tribes.  While 
ranching  in  this  region  I  myself  killed  every 
kind  of  game  encountered  by  Lewis  and  Clark. 

Once,  on  the  return  voyage,  when  Clark  was 
descending  the  Yellowstone  River,  a  vast  herd 
of  buffalo,  swimming  and  wading,  plowed  its 
way  across  the  stream  where  it  was  a  mile  broad, 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  83 

in  a  column  so  thick  that  the  explorers  had  to 
draw  up  on  shore  and  wait  for  an  hour,  until  it 
passed  by,  before  continuing  their  journey. 
Two  or  three  times  the  expedition  was  thus 
brought  to  a  halt;  and  as  the  buffalo  were  so 
plentiful  and  so  easy  to  kill,  and  as  their  flesh 
was  very  good,  they  were  the  mainstay  for  the 
explorers'  table.  Both  going  and  returning  this 
wonderful  hunting  country  was  a  place  of 
plenty.  The  party  of  course  lived  almost  ex- 
clusively on  meat,  and  they  needed  much,  for, 
when  they  could  get  it,  they  consumed  either  a 
buffalo,  or  an  elk  or  a  deer,  or  four  deer,  every 
day. 

There  was  one  kind  of  game  which  they  at 
times  found  altogether  too  familiar.  This  was 
the  grizzly  bear,  which  they  were  the  first  white 
men  to  discover.  They  called  it  indifferently 
the  grizzly,  gray,  brown,  and  even  white  bear, 
to  distinguish  it  from  its  smaller,  glossy,  black- 
coated  brother  with  which  they  were  familiar  in 
the  Eastern  woods.  They  found  that  the  In- 
dians greatly  feared  these  bears,  and  after  their 
first  encounters  thev  themselves  treated  them  with 
much  respect.  The  grizzly  was  then  the  burly 
lord  of  the  Western  prairie,  dreaded  by  all  other 
game,  and  usually  shunned  even  by  the  Indians. 
In  consequence  it  was  very  bold  and  savage. 


84 


STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 


Again  and  again  these  huge  bears  attacked  the 
explorers  of  their  own  accord,  when  neither  mo- 
lested nor  threatened.  They  galloped  after  the 
hunters  when  they  met  them  on  horseback  even  in 
the  open;  and  they  attacked  them  just  as  freely 
when  they  found  them  on  foot.  To  go  through 
the  brush  was  dangerous ;  again  and  again  one  or 
another  of  the  party  was  charged  and  forced  to 
take  to  a  tree,  at  the  foot  of  which  the  bear  some- 
times mounted  guard  for  hours  before  going  off. 
When  wounded  the  beasts  fought  with  desperate 
courage,  and  showed  astonishing  tenacity  of  life, 
charging  any  number  of  assailants,  and  succumb- 
ing but  slowly  even  to  mortal  wounds.  In  one 
case  a  bear  that  was  on  shore  actually  plunged 
into  the  water  and  swam  out  to  attack  one  of 
the  canoes  as  it  passed.  However,  by  this  time 
all  of  the  party  had  become  good  hunters,  ex- 
pert in  the  use  of  their  rifles,  and  they  killed 
great  numbers  of  their  ursine  foes. 

Nor  were  the  bears  their  only  brute  enemies. 
The  rattlesnakes  were  often  troublesome.  Un- 
like the  bears,  the  wolves  were  generally  timid, 
and  preyed  only  on  the  swarming  game ;  but  one 
night  a  wolf  crept  into  camp  and  seized  a  sleeper 
by  the  hand;  when  driven  off  he  jumped  upon 
another  man,  and  was  shot  by  a  third.  A  less 
intentional  assault  was  committed  by  a  buffalo 


' 


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a 

B 

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3 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  87 

bull  which  one  night  blundered  past  the  fires, 
narrowly  escaped  trampling  on  the  sleepers,  and 
had  the  whole  camp  in  an  uproar  before  it  rushed 
off  into  the  darkness.  When  hunted  the  buf- 
falo occasionally  charged;  but  there  was  not 
much  danger  in  their  chase. 

All  these  larger  foes  paled  into  insignificance 
compared  with  the  mosquitoes.  There  are  very 
few  places  on  earth  where  these  pests  are  so 
formidable  as  in  the  bottom  lands  of  the  Mis- 
souri, and  for  weeks  and  even  months  they  made 
the  lives  of  our  explorers  a  torture.  No  other 
danger,  whether  from  hunger  or  cold,  Indians 
or  wild  beasts,  was  so  dreaded  by  the  explorers 
as  these  tiny  scourges. 

In  the  plains  country  the  life  of  the  explorers 
was  very  pleasant  save  only  for  the  mosquitoes 
and  the  incessant  clouds  of  driving  sand  along 
the  river  bottoms.  On  their  journey  west 
through  these  true  happy  hunting  grounds  they 
did  not  meet  with  any  Indians,  and  their  en- 
counters with  the  bears  were  only  just  suffi- 
ciently dangerous  to  add  excitement  to  their  life. 
Once  or  twice  they  were  in  peril  from  cloud- 
bursts, and  they  were  lamed  by  the  cactus  spines 
on  the  prairie,  and  by  the  stones  and  sand  of 
the  river  bed  while  dragging  the  boats  against 
the  current;  but  all  these  trials,  labors  and  risks 


88         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

were  only  enough  to  give  zest  to  their  exploration 
of  the  unknown  land.  At  the  Great  Falls  of 
the  Missouri  they  halted,  and  were  enraptured 
with  their  beauty  and  majesty;  and  here,  as 
everywhere,  they  found  the  game  so  abundant 
that  they  lived  in  plenty.  As  they  journeyed 
up-stream  through  the  bright  summer  weather, 
though  they  worked  hard,  it  was  work  of  a  kind 
which  was  but  a  long  holiday.  At  nightfall  they 
camped  by  the  boats  on  the  river  bank.  Each 
day  some  of  the  party  spent  in  hunting,  either 
along  the  river  bottoms  through  the  groves  of 
cottonwoods  with  shimmering,  rustling  leaves,  or 
away  from  the  river  where  the  sunny  prairies 
stretched  into  seas  of  brown  grass,  or  where 
groups  of  rugged  hills  stood,  fantastic  in  color 
and  outline,  and  with  stunted  pines  growing  on 
the  sides  of  their  steep  ravines.  The  only  real 
suffering  was  that  which  occasionally  befell 
someone  who  got  lost,  and  was  out  for  days  at 
a  time,  until  he  exhausted  all  his  powder  and  lead 
before  finding  the  party. 

Fall  had  nearly  come  when  they  reached  the 
head-waters  of  the  Missouri.  The  end  of  the 
holiday -time  was  at  hand,  for  they  had  before 
them  the  labor  of  crossing  the  great  mountains 
so  as  to  strike  the  head-waters  of  the  Columbia. 
Their  success  at  this  point  depended  somewhat 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  89 

upon  the  Indian  wife  of  the  Frenchman  who  had 
joined  them  at  Mandan.  She  had  been  captured 
from  one  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  tribes  and 
they  relied  on  her  as  interpreter.  Partly 
through  her  aid,  and  partly  by  their  own  exer- 
tions, they  were  able  to  find  and  make  friends 
with  a  band  of  wandering  Shoshones,  from  whom 
they  got  horses.  Having  cached  their  boats  and 
most  of  their  goods,  they  started  westward 
through  the  forest-clad  passes  of  the  Rockies; 
before  this  they  wandered  and  explored  in  sev- 
eral directions  through  the  mountains  and  the 
foot-hills.  The  open  country  had  been  left  be- 
hind, and  with  it  the  time  of  plenty.  In  the 
mountain  forests  the  game  was  far  less  abundant 
than  on  the  plains  and  far  harder  to  kill. 

They  now  met  many  Indians  of  various  tribes, 
all  of  them  very  different  from  the  Indians  of 
the  Western  Plains.  At  this  time  the  Indians, 
both  east  and  west  of  the  Rockies,  already  owned 
numbers  of  horses.  Although  they  had  a  few 
guns,  they  relied  mainly  on  the  spears  and  toma- 
hawks, and  bows  and  arrows  with  which  they  had 
warred  and  hunted  from  time  immemorial;  for 
only  the  tribes  on  the  outer  edges  had  come  in 
contact  with  the  whites,  whether  with  occasional 
French  and  English  traders  who  brought  them 
goods,  or  with  the  mixed  bloods  of  the  northern 


90         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

Spanish  settlements,  upon  which  they  raided. 
Around  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia,  however, 
the  Indians  knew  a  good  deal  about  the  whites; 
the  river  had  been  discovered  by  Captain  Gray 
of  Boston  thirteen  years  before,  and  ships  came 
there  continually,  while  some  of  the  Indian  tribes 
were  occasionally  visited  by  traders  from  the 
British  fur  companies. 

With  one  or  two  of  these  tribes  the  explorers 
had  some  difficulty,  and  owed  their  safety  to 
their  unceasing  vigilance,  and  to  the  prompt  de- 
cision with  which  they  gave  the  Indians  to  under- 
stand that  they  would  tolerate  no  bad  treatment ; 
while  yet  themselves  refraining  carefully  from 
committing  any  wrong.  By  most  of  the  tribes 
they  were  well  received,  and  obtained  from  them 
not  only  information  of  the  route,  but  also  a 
welcome  supply  of  food.  At  first  they  rather 
shrank  from  eating  the  dogs  which  formed  the 
favorite  dish  of  the  Indians;  but  after  a  while 
they  grew  quite  reconciled  to  dog's  flesh;  and  in 
their  journals  noted  that  they  preferred  it  to  lean 
elk  or  deer  meat,  and  were  much  more  healthy 
while  eating  it. 

They  reached  the  rain-shrouded  forests  of  the 
coast  before  cold  weather  set  in,  and  there  they 
passed  the  winter,  suffering  somewhat  from  the 
weather,  and  now  and  then  from  hunger,  though 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  91 

the  hunters  generally  killed  plenty  of  elk,  and 
deer  of  the  new  kind,  the  blacktail  of  the  Colum- 
bia. 


V.        ADVENTURES  ON  THE   HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 

In  March,  1806,  they  started  eastward  to  re- 
trace their  steps.  At  first  they  did  not  live  well, 
for  it  was  before  the  time  when  the  salmon  came 
up-stream,  and  game  was  not  common.  When 
they  reached  the  snow-covered  mountains  there 
came  another  period  of  toil  and  starvation,  and 
they  were  glad  indeed  when  they  emerged  once 
more  on  the  happy  hunting-grounds  of  the  Great 
Plains.  They  found  their  caches  undisturbed. 
Early  in  July  they  separated  for  a  time,  Clark 
descending  the  Yellowstone  and  Lewis  the  Mis- 
souri, until  they  met  at  the  junction  of  the  two 
rivers.  The  party  which  went  down  the  Yellow- 
stone at  one  time  split  into  two,  Clark  taking 
command  of  one  division,  and  a  sergeant  of  the 
other ;  they  built  their  own  canoes,  some  of  them 
made  out  of  hollowed  trees,  while  the  others  were 
bull  boats,  made  of  buffalo  hides  stretched  on 
a  frame.  As  before,  they  reveled  in  the  abun- 
dance of  the  game.  They  marveled  at  the  in- 
credible numbers  of  the  buffalo  whose  incessant 
bellowing  at  this  season  filled  the  air  with  one 


92        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

continuous  roar,  which  terrified  their  horses ;  they 
were  astonished  at  the  abundance  and  tameness 
of  the  elk;  they  fought  their  old  enemies,  the 
grizzly  bears;  and  they  saw  and  noted  many 
strange  and  wonderful  beasts  and  birds. 

To  Lewis  there  befell  other  adventures. 
Once,  while  he  was  out  with  three  men,  a  party 
of  eight  Blackfoot  warriors  joined  them  and  sud- 
denly made  a  treacherous  attack  upon  them  and 
strove  to  carry  off  their  guns  and  horses.  But 
the  wilderness  veterans  sprang  to  arms  with  a 
readiness  that  had  become  second  nature.  One 
of  them  killed  an  Indian  with  a  knife-thrust; 
Lewis  himself  shot  another  Indian,  and  the  re- 
maining six  fled,  carrying  with  them  one  of 
Lewis'  horses,  but  losing  four  of  their  own, 
which  the  whites  captured.  This  was  the  begin- 
ning of  the  long  series  of  bloody  skirmishes  be- 
tween the  Blackfeet  and  the  Rocky  Mountain 
explorers  and  trappers.  Clark,  at  about  the 
same  time,  suffered  at  the  hands  of  the  Crows, 
who  stole  a  number  of  his  horses. 

None  of  the  party  was  hurt  by  the  Indians, 
but  some  time  after  the  skirmish  with  the  Black- 
feet  Lewis  was  accidentally  shot  by  one  of  the 
Frenchmen  of  the  party  and  suffered  much  from 
the  wound.  Near  the  mouth  of  the  Yellowstone 
Clark  joined  him,  and  the  re-united  company^ 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK  93 

floated  down  the  Missouri.  Before  they  reached 
the  Mandan  villages  they  encountered  two  white 
men,  the  first  strangers  of  their  own  color  the 
party  had  seen  for  a  year  and  a  half.  These 
were  two  American  hunters  named  Dickson  and 
Hancock,  who  were  going  up  to  trap  the  head- 
waters of  the  Missouri  on  their  own  account. 
They  had  come  from  the  Illinois  country  a  year 
before  to  hunt  and  trap;  they  had  been  plun- 
dered, and  one  of  them  wounded,  in  an  encoun- 
ter with  the  fierce  Sioux,  but  were  undauntedly 
pushing  forwards  into  the  unknown  wilderness 
towards  the  mountains. 

These  two  hardy  and  daring  adventurers 
formed  the  little  vanguard  of  the  bands  of  hunt- 
ers and  trappers,  the  famous  Rocky  Mountain 
men,  who  were  to  roam  hither  and  thither  across 
the  great  West  in  lawless  freedom  for  the  next 
three  quarters  of  a  century.  They  accompanied 
the  party  back  to  the  Mandan  village ;  there  one 
of  the  soldiers  joined  them,  a  man  named  Colter, 
so  fascinated  by  the  life  of  the  wilderness  that 
he  was  not  willing  to  leave  it,  even  for  a  mo- 
ment's glimpse  of  the  civilization  from  which  he 
had  been  so  long  exiled.  The  three  turned  their 
canoe  up-stream,  while  Lewis  and  Clark  and  the 
rest  of  the  party  drifted  down  past  the  Sioux. 

The  further  voyage  of  the  explorers  was  un- 


94         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

eventful.  They  had  difficulties  with  the  Sioux 
of  course,  but  they  held  them  at  bay.  They 
killed  game  in  abundance,  and  went  down- 
stream as  fast  as  sails,  oars  and  current  could 
carry  them.  In  September  they  reached  St. 
Louis  and  forwarded  to  Jefferson  an  account  of 
what  they  had  done. 

They  had  done  a  great  deed,  for  they  had 
opened  the  door  into  the  heart  of  the  far  West. 
Close  on  their  tracks  followed  the  hunters,  trap- 
pers and  fur  traders,  who  themselves  made  ready 
the  way  for  the  settlers  whose  descendants  were 
to  possess  the  land.  As  for  the  two  leaders  of 
the  explorers,  Lewis  was  made  Governor  of 
Louisiana  Territory,  and  a  couple  of  years  after- 
wards died,  as  was  supposed,  by  his  own  hand, 
in  a  squalid  log  cabin  on  the  Chickasaw  trace — 
though  it  was  never  certain  that  he  had  not  been 
murdered.  Clark  was  afterwards  Governor  of 
the  territory,  when  its  name  had  been  changed 
to  Missouri,  and  he  also  served  honorably  as  In- 
dian agent.  But  neither  of  them  did  anything 
further  of  note ;  nor  indeed  was  it  necessary,  for 
they  had  performed  a  feat  which  will  always 
give  them  a  place  on  the  honor  roll  of  American 
worthies. 


*  REMEMBER  THE  ALAMO 


99 


6 


"  REMEMBER  THE  ALAMO 


j> 


THERMOPYLAE   had  its  messengers  of 
death,  but  the  Alamo  had  none."     These 
were  the  words  with  which  a  United  States 
senator  referred  to  one  of  the  most  resolute  and 
effective  fights  ever  waged  by  brave  men  against 
overwhelming  odds  in  the  face  of  certain  death. 
Soon  after  the  close  of  the  second  war  with 
Great  Britain,  parties  of  American  settlers  be- 
gan to  press  forward  into  the  rich,  sparsely  set- 
tled territory  of  Texas,  then  a  portion  of  Mex- 
ico.    At  first  these  immigrants  were  well  re- 
ceived, but  the  Mexicans  speedily  grew  jealous 
of  them,  and  oppressed  them  in  various  ways. 
In  consequence,  when  the  settlers  felt  themselves 
strong  enough,  they  revolted  against  Mexican 
rule,  and  declared  Texas  to  be  an  independent 
republic.     Immediately   Santa  Anna,  the  Dic- 
tator of  Mexico,  gathered  a  large  army  and  in- 
vaded Texas.     The  slender  forces  of  the  settlers 
were    unable    to    meet    his    hosts.     They    were 
pressed  back  by  the   Mexicans,   and   dreadful 
atrocities  were  committed  by  Santa  Anna  and 
his  lieutenants. 

97 


98         STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

In  the  United  States  there  was  great  enthusi- 
asm for  the  struggling  Texans,  and  many  bold 
backwoodsmen  and  Indian-fighters  swarmed  to 
their  help.  Among  them  the  two  most  famous 
were  Sam  Houston  and  David  Crockett.  Hous- 
ton was  the  younger  man,  and  had  already  led 
an  extraordinary  and  varied  career.  When  a 
mere  lad  he  ran  away  from  home  and  joined  the 
Cherokees,  living  among  them  for  some  years; 
then  he  returned  home.  He  had  fought  under 
Andrew  Jackson  in  his  campaigns  against  the 
Creeks,  and  had  been  severely  wounded  at  the 
battle  of  the  Horse-shoe  Bend.  He  had  risen  to 
the  highest  political  honors  in  his  State,  becom- 
ing Governor  of  Tennessee;  and  then  suddenly, 
in  a  fit  of  moody  longing  for  the  life  of  the  wil- 
derness, he  gave  up  his  Governorship,  left  the 
State,  and  crossed  the  Mississippi,  going  to  join 
his  old  comrades,  the  Cherokees,  in  their  new 
home  along  the  waters  of  the  Arkansas.  Here 
he  dressed,  lived,  fought,  hunted  and  drank  pre- 
cisely like  any  Indian,  becoming  one  of  the 
chiefs. 

David  Crockett  was  born  soon  after  the  Revo- 
lutionary War.  He,  too,  had  taken  part  under 
Jackson  in  the  campaigns  against  the  Creeks, 
and  had  afterward  become  a  man  of  mark  in 
Tennessee,  and  gone  to  Congress  as  a  Whig; 


"  REMEMBER  THE  ALAMO  "  99 

but  he  had  quarreled  with  Jackson,  and  been 
beaten  for  Congress,  and  in  his  disgust  he  left 
the  State  and  decided  to  join  the  Texans.  He 
was  the  most  famous  rifle-shot  in  all  the  United 
States,  and  the  most  successful  hunter,  so  that 
his  skill  was  a  proverb  all  along  the  border. 

David  Crockett  journeyed  south  by  boat  and 
horse,  making  his  way  steadily  toward  the  dis- 
tant plains  where  the  Texans  were  waging  their 
life-and-death  fight.  Texas  was  a  wild  place  in 
those  days,  and  the  old  hunter  had  more  than  one 
hair-breadth  escape  from  Indians,  desperadoes, 
and  savage  beasts  ere  he  got  to  the  neighborhood 
of  San  Antonio,  and  joined  another  adventurer, 
a  bee-hunter,  bent  on  the  same  errand  as  himself. 
The  two  had  been  in  ignorance  of  exactly  what 
the  situation  in  Texas  was;  but  they  soon  found 
that  the  Mexican  army  was  marching  toward 
San  Antonio,  whither  they  were  going.  Near 
the  town  was  an  old  Spanish  fort,  the  Alamo, 
in  which  the  hundred  and  fifty  American  de- 
fenders of  the  place  had  gathered.  Santa  Anna 
had  four  thousand  troops  with  him.  The  Alamo 
was  a  mere  shell,  utterly  unable  to  withstand 
either  a  bombardment  or  a  regular  assault.  It 
was  evident,  therefore,  that  those  within  it  would 
be  in  the  utmost  jeopardy  if  the  place  were 
seriously  assaulted,  but  old  Crockett  and  his  com- 


100       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

panion  never  wavered.  They  were  fearless  and 
resolute,  and  masters  of  woodcraft,  and  they 
managed  to  slip  through  the  Mexican  lines  and 
join  the  defenders  within  the  walls.  The  brav- 
est, the  hardiest,  the  most  reckless  men  of  the 
border  were  there;  among  them  were  Colonel 
Travis,  the  commander  of  the  fort,  and  Bowie, 
the  inventor  of  the  famous  bowie-knife.  They 
were  a  wild  and  ill-disciplined  band,  little  used 
to  restraint  or  control,  but  they  were  men  of  iron 
courage  and  great  bodily  powers,  skilled  in  the 
use  of  their  weapons,  and  ready  to  meet  with 
stern  and  uncomplaining  indifference  whatever 
doom  fate  might  have  in  store  for  them. 

Soon  Santa  Anna  approached  with  his  army, 
took  possession  of  the  town,  and  besieged  the 
fort.  The  defenders  knew  there  was  scarcely  a 
chance  of  rescue,  and  that  it  was  hopeless  to  ex- 
pect that  one  hundred  and  fifty  men,  behind  de- 
fenses so  weak,  could  beat  off  four  thousand 
trained  soldiers,  well  armed  and  provided  with 
heavy  artillery;  but  they  had  no  idea  of  flinch- 
ing, and  made  a  desperate  defense.  The  days 
went  by,  and  no  help  came,  while  Santa  Anna 
got  ready  his  lines  and  began  a  furious  cannon- 
ade. His  gunners  were  unskilled,  however,  and 
he  had  to  serve  the  guns  from  a  distance;  for 
when  they  were  pushed  nearer  the  American  rifle- 


1    > 


..    , 


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0 
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i 

O 
O 

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"REMEMBER  THE  ALAMO"  10S 

men  crept  forward  under  cover  and  picked  off 
the  artillerymen.  Old  Crockett  thus  killed  five 
men  at  one  gun.  But,  by  degrees,  the  bombard- 
ment told.  The  walls  of  the  Alamo  were  bat- 
tered and  riddled;  and  when  they  had  been 
breached  so  as  to  afford  no  obstacle  to  the  rush 
of  his  soldiers,  Santa  Anna  commanded  that  thev 
be  stormed. 

The  storming  took  place  on  March  6,  1836. 
The  Mexican  troops  came  on  well  and  steadily, 
breaking  through  the  outer  defences  at  every 
point,  for  the  lines  were  too  long  to  be  manned  by 
the  few  Americans.  The  frontiersmen  then  re- 
treated to  the  inner  building,  and  a  desperate 
hand-to-hand  conflict  followed,  the  Mexicans 
thronging  in,  shooting  the  Americans  with  their 
muskets  and  thrusting  at  them  with  lance  and 
bayonet,  while  the  Americans,  after  firing  their 
long  rifles,  clubbed  them  and  fought  desperately, 
one  against  many ;  and  they  also  used  their  bowie- 
knives  and  revolvers  with  deadly  effect.  The 
fight  reeled  to  and  fro  between  the  shattered 
walls,  each  American  the  center  of  a  group  of 
foes;  but,  for  all  their  strength  and  their  wild 
fighting  courage,  the  defenders  were  too  few, 
and  the  struggle  could  have  but  one  end.  One 
by  one  the  tall  riflemen  succumbed,  after  re- 
peated thrusts  with  bayonet  and  lance,  until  but 


104*   STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

three  or  four  were  left.  Colonel  Travis,  the 
commander,  was  among  them ;  and  so  was  Bowie, 
who  was  sick  and  weak  from  a  wasting  disease, 
but  who  rallied  all  his  strength  to  die  fighting, 
and  who,  in  the  final  struggle,  slew  several  Mexi- 
cans with  his  revolver,  and  with  his  big  knife,  of 
the  kind  to  which  he  had  given  his  name.  Then 
these  fell,  too,  and  the  last  man  stood  at  bay. 
It  was  old  Davy  Crockett.  Wounded  in  a  dozen 
places,  he  faced  his  foes  with  his  back  to  the  wall, 
ringed  round  by  the  bodies  of  the  men  he  had 
slain.  So  desperate  was  the  fight  he  waged  that 
the  Mexicans  who  thronged  round  about  him 
were  beaten  back  for  the  moment,  and  no  one 
dared  to  run  in  upon  him.  Accordingly,  while 
the  lancers  held  him  where  he  was,  for,  weak- 
ened by  wounds  and  loss  of  blood,  he  could  not 
break  through  them,  the  musketeers  loaded  their 
carbines  and  shot  him  down.  Santa  Anna  de- 
clined to  give  him  mercy.  Some  say  that  when 
Crockett  fell  from  his  wounds,  he  was  taken 
alive,  and  was  then  shot  by  Santa  Anna's  order; 
but  his  fate  cannot  be  told  with  certainty,  for 
not  a  single  American  was  left  alive.  At  any 
rate,  after  Crockett  fell  the  fight  was  over. 
Every  one  of  the  hardy  men  who  had  held  the 
Alamo  lay  still  in  death.     Yet  they-  died  well 


"REMEMBER  THE  ALAMO"  105 

avenged,  for  four  times  their  number  fell  at 
their  hands  in  the  battle. 

Santa  Anna  had  but  a  short  while  in  which  to 
exult  over  the  bloody  and  hard-won  victory.  Al- 
ready a  rider  from  the  rolling  Texas  plains, 
going  north  through  the  Indian  Territory,  had 
told  Houston  that  the  Texans  were  up  and  were 
striving  for  their  liberty.  At  once  in  Houston's 
mind  there  kindled  a  longing  to  return  to  the 
men  of  his  race  at  the  time  of  their  need. 
Mounting  his  horse,  he  rode  south  by  night  and 
day,  and  was  hailed  by  the  Texans  as  a  heaven- 
sent leader.  He  took  command  of  their  forces, 
eleven  hundred  stark  riflemen,  and  at  the  battle 
of  San  Jacinto  he  and  his  men  charged  the  Mex- 
ican hosts  with  the  cry  of  "Remember  the 
Alamo."  Almost  immediately  the  Mexicans 
were  overthrown  with  terrible  slaughter;  Santa 
Anna  himself  was  captured,  and  the  freedom  of 
Texas  was  won  at  a  blow. 


THE  CATTLE  COUNTRY 
OF  THE  FAR  WEST 


PART  II 
STORIES  OF  ADVENTURE 

THE  CATTLE  COUNTRY  OF  THE 

FAR  WEST 

THE  great  grazing  lands  of  the  West  lie  in 
what  is  known  as  the  arid  belt,  which 
stretches  from  British  America  on  the 
north  to  Mexico  on  the  south,  through  the  mid- 
dle of  the  United  States.  It  includes  New  Mex- 
ico, part  of  Arizona,  Colorado,  Wyoming,  Mon- 
tana, and  the  western  portion  of  Texas,  Kansas, 
Nebraska  and  Dakota.  It  must  not  be  under- 
stood by  this  that  more  cattle  are  to  be  found  here 
than  elsewhere,  for  the  contrary  is  true,  it  being 
a  fact  often  lost  sight  of  that  the  number  of 
cattle  raised  on  the  small,  thick-lying  farms  of 
the  fertile  Eastern  States  is  actually  many  times 
greater  than  that  of  those  scattered  over  the  vast, 
barren  ranches  of  the  far  West;  for  stock  will 
always  be  most  plentiful  in  districts  where  corn 
and  other  winter  food  can  be  grown.  But  in 
this  arid  belt,  and  in  this  arid  belt  only  —  save 
in  a  few  similar  tracts  on  the  Pacific  slope  — 
stock-raising  is  almost  the  sole  industry,  except 
in  the  mountain  districts  where  there  is  mining. 

109 


110      STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

The  whole  region  is  one  vast  stretch  of  grazing 
country,  with  only  here  and  there  spots  of  farm- 
land, in  most  places  there  being  nothing  more 
like  agriculture  than  is  implied  in  the  cutting  of 
some  tons  of  wild  hay  or  the  planting  of  a  gar- 
den patch  for  home  use.  This  is  especially  true 
of  the  northern  portion  of  the  region,  which  com- 
prises the  basin  of  the  Upper  Missouri,  and  with 
which  alone  I  am  familiar.  Here  there  are  no 
fences  to  speak  of,  and  all  the  land  north  of  the 
Black  Hills  and  the  Big  Horn  Mountains  and 
between  the  Rockies  and  the  Dakota  wheat-fields 
might  be  spoken  of  as  one  gigantic,  unbroken 
pasture,  where  cowboys  and  branding-irons  take 
the  place  of  fences. 

The  country  throughout  this  great  Upper 
Missouri  basin  has  a  wonderful  sameness  of 
character;  and  the  rest  of  the  arid  belt,  lying  to 
the  southward,  is  closely  akin  to  it  in  its  main 
features.  A  traveler  seeing  it  for  the  first  time 
is  especially  struck  by  its  look  of  parched,  bar- 
ren desolation ;  he  can  with  difficulty  believe  that 
it  will  support  cattle  at  all.  It  is  a  region  of 
light  rainfall;  the  grass  is  short  and  compara- 
tively scanty ;  there  is  no  timber  except  along  the 
beds  of  the  streams,  and  in  many  places  there  are 
alkali  deserts  where  nothing  grows  but  sage- 
brush and  cactus.     Now  the  land  stretches  out 


THE  CATTLE  COUNTRY  111 

into  level,  seemingly  endless  plains  or  into  rolling 
prairies;  again  it  is  broken  by  abrupt  hills  and 
deep,  winding  valleys;  or  else  it  is  crossed  by 
chains  of  buttes,  usually  bare,  but  often  clad 
with  a  dense  growth  of  dwarfed  pines  or  gnarled, 
stunted  cedars.  The  muddy  rivers  run  in  broad, 
shallow  beds,  which  after  heavy  rainfalls  are 
filled  to  the  brim  by  the  swollen  torrents,  while 
in  droughts  the  larger  streams  dwindle  into  slug- 
gish trickles  of  clearer  water,  and  the  smaller 
ones  dry  up  entirely,  save  in  occasional  deep 
pools. 

All  through  the  region,  except  on  the  great 
Indian  reservations,  there  has  been  a  scanty  and 
sparse  settlement,  quite  peculiar  in  its  charac- 
ter. In  the  forest  the  woodchopper  comes  first;  * 
on  the  fertile  prairies  the  granger  is  the  pioneer ;  „ 
but  on  the  long,  stretching  uplands  of  the  far 
West  it  is  the  men  who  guard  and  follow  the 
horned  herds  that  prepare  the  way  for  the  set- 
tlers who  come  after.  The  high  plains  of  the 
Upper  Missouri  and  its  tributary  rivers  were 
first  opened,  and  are  still  held,  by  the  stockmen, 
and  the  whole  civilization  of  the  region  has  re- 
ceived the  stamp  of  their  marked  and  individual 
characteristics.  They  were  from  the  South,  not 
from  the  East,  although  many  men  from  the  lat- 
ter region  came  out  along  the  great  transconti- 


112       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

nental  railway  lines  and  joined  them  in  their 
northern  migration. 

They  were  not  dwellers  in  towns,  and  from 
the  nature  of  their  industry  lived  as  far  apart 
from  each  other  as  possible.  In  choosing  new 
ranges,  old  cow-hands,  who  are  also  seasoned 
plainsmen,  are  invariably  sent  ahead,  perhaps  a 
year  in  advance,  to  spy  out  the  land  and  pick 
the  best  places.  One  of  these  may  go  by  him- 
self, or  more  often,  especially  if  they  have  to 
penetrate  little  known  or  entirely  unknown 
tracts,  two  or  three  will  go  together,  the  owner 
or  manager  of  the  herd  himself  being  one  of 
them.  Perhaps  their  herds  may  already  be  on 
the  border  of  the  wild  and  uninhabited  country; 
in  that  case  they  may  have  to  take  but  a  few  days' 
journey  before  finding  the  stretches  of  sheltered 
long-grass  land  that  they  seek.  For  instance, 
when  I  wished  to  move  my  own  elkhorn  steer 
brand  on  to  a  new  ranch  I  had  to  spend  barely 
a  week  in  traveling  north  among  the  Little  Mis- 
souri Bad  Lands  before  finding  what  was  then 
untrodden  ground  far  outside  the  range  of  any 
of  my  neighbors'  cattle.  But  if  a  large  outfit 
is  going  to  shift  its  quarters  it  must  go  much 
farther;  and  both  the  necessity  and  the  chance 
for  long  wanderings  were  especially  great  when 
the  final  overthrow  of  the  northern  Horse  In- 


i— <• 
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<-»■ 


THE  CATTLE  COUNTRY  115 

dians  opened  the  whole  Upper  Missouri  basin  at 
one  sweep  to  the  stockmen.  Then  the  advance- 
guards  or  explorers,  each  on  one  horse  and  lead- 
ing another  with  food  and  bedding,  were  often 
absent  months  at  a  time,  threading  their  way- 
through  the  trackless  wastes  of  plain,  plateau 
and  river-bottom.  If  possible  they  would  choose 
a  country  that  would  be  good  for  winter  and 
summer  alike;  but  often  this  could  not  be  done, 
and  then  they  would  try  to  find  a  well-watered 
tract  on  which  the  cattle  could  be  summered,  and 
from  which  they  could  be  driven  in  fall  to  their 
sheltered  winter  range — for  the  cattle  in  winter 
eat  snow,  and  an  entirely  waterless  region,  if 
broken,  and  with  good  pasturage,  is  often  the 
best  possible  winter  ground,  as  it  is  sure  not  to 
have  been  eaten  off  at  all  during  the  summer; 
while  in  the  bottoms  the  grass  is  always  cropped 
down  soonest.  Many  outfits  regularly  shift 
their  herds  every  spring  and  fall;  but  with  us 
in  the  Bad  Lands  all  we  do,  when  cold  weather 
sets  in,  is  to  drive  our  beasts  off  the  scantily 
grassed  river-bottom  back  ten  miles  or  more 
among  the  broken  buttes  and  plateaus  of  the  up- 
lands to  where  the  brown  hay,  cured  on  the  stalk, 
stands  thick  in  the  winding  coulees. 

These  lookouts  or  forerunners  having  returned, 

the  herds  are  set  in  motion  as  early  in  the  spring 

7. 


116      STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

as  may  be,  so  as  to  get  on  the  ground  in  time  to 
let  the  travel-worn  beasts  rest  and  gain  flesh  be- 
fore winter  sets  in.  Each  herd  is  accompanied 
by  a  dozen,  or  a  score,  or  a  couple  of  score,  of 
cowboys,  according  to  its  size,  and  beside  it  rum- 
ble and  jolt  the  heavy  four-horse  wagons  that 
hold  the  food  and  bedding  of  the  men  and  the 
few  implements  they  will  need  at  the  end  of  their 
journey.  As  long  as  possible  they  follow  the 
trails  made  by  the  herds  that  have  already  trav- 
eled in  the  same  direction,  and  when  these  end 
they  strike  out  for  themselves.  In  the  Upper 
Missouri  basin,  the  pioneer  herds  soon  had  to 
scatter  out  and  each  find  its  own  way  among  the 
great  dreary  solitudes,  creeping  carefully  along 
so  that  the  cattle  should  not  be  overdriven  and 
should  have  water  at  the  halting-places.  An 
outfit  might  thus  be  months  on  its  lonely  journey, 
slowly  making  its  way  over  melancholy,  pathless 
plains,  or  down  the  valleys  of  the  lonely  rivers. 
It  was  tedious,  harassing  work,  as  the  weary 
cattle  had  to  be  driven  carefully  and  quietly  dur- 
ing the  day  and  strictly  guarded  at  night,  with 
a  perpetual  watch  kept  for  Indians  or  white 
horse-thieves.  Often  they  would  skirt  the  edges 
of  the  streams  for  days  at  a  time,  seeking  for  a 
ford  or  a  good  swimming  crossing,  and  if  the 
water  was  up  and  the  quicksand  deep  the  danger 


THE  CATTLE  COUNTRY  117 

to  the  riders  was  serious  and  the  risk  of  loss 
among  the  cattle  very  great. 

At  last,  after  days  of  excitement  and  danger 
and  after  months  of  weary,  monotonous  toil,  the 
chosen  ground  is  reached  and  the  final  camp 
pitched.  The  footsore  animals  are  turned  loose 
to  shift  for  themselves,  outlying  camps  of  two 
or  three  men  each  being  established  to  hem  them 
in.  Meanwhile  the  primitive  ranch-house,  out- 
buildings and  corrals  are  built,  the  unhewn  Cot- 
tonwood logs  being  chinked  with  moss  and  mud, 
while  the  roofs  are  of  branches  covered  with  dirt, 
spades  and  axes  being  the  only  tools  needed  for 
the  work.  Bunks,  chairs  and  tables  are  all  home- 
made, and  as  rough  as  the  houses  they  are  in. 
The  supplies  of  coarse,  rude  food  are  carried  per- 
haps two  or  three  hundred  miles  from  the  near- 
est town,  either  in  the  ranch-wagons  or  else  by 
some  regular  freighting  outfit,  the  huge  canvas- 
topped  prairie  schooners  of  which  are  each  drawn 
by  several  yoke  of  oxen,  or  perhaps  by  six  or 
eight  mules.  To  guard  against  numerous  mis- 
haps of  prairie  travel,  two  or  three  of  these 
prairie  schooners  usually  go  together,  the  brawny 
teamsters,  known  either  as  "  bull- whackers  "  or 
as  '  mule-skinners,"  stalking  beside  their  slow- 
moving  teams. 

The  small  outlying  camps  are  often  tents,  or 


118       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

mere  dug-outs  in  the  ground.  But  at  the  main 
ranch  there  will  be  a  cluster  of  log  buildings,  in- 
cluding a  separate  cabin  for  the  foreman  or 
ranchman;  often  another  in  which  to  cook  and 
eat ;  a  long  house  for  the  men  to  sleep  in ;  stables, 
sheds,  a  blacksmith's  shop,  etc., —  the  whole 
group  forming  quite  a  little  settlement,  with  the 
corrals,  the  stacks  of  natural  hay,  and  the  patches 
of  fenced  land  for  gardens  or  horse  pastures. 
This  little  settlement  may  be  situated  right  out 
in  the  treeless,  nearly  level  open,  but  much  more 
often  is  placed  in  the  partly  wooded  bottom  of 
a  creek  or  river,  sheltered  by  the  usual  back- 
ground of  somber  brown  hills. 

When  the  northern  plains  began  to  be  settled, 
such  a  ranch  would  at  first  be  absolutely  alone  in 
the  wilderness,  but  others  of  the  same  sort  were 
sure  soon  to  be  established  within  twentv  or 
thirty  miles  on  one  side  or  the  other.  The  lives 
of  the  men  in  such  places  were  strangely  cut  off 
from  the  outside  world,  and,  indeed,  the  same  is 
true  to  a  hardly  less  extent  at  the  present  day. 
Sometimes  the  wagons  are  sent  for  provisions, 
and  the  beef-steers  are  at  stated  times  driven  off 
for  shipment.  Parties  of  hunters  and  trappers 
call  now  and  then.  More  rarely  small  bands  of 
emigrants  go  by  in  search  of  new  homes,  im- 
pelled by  the  restless,  aimless  craving  for  change 


THE  CATTLE  COUNTRY  119 

so  deeply  grafted  in  the  breast  of  the  American 
borderer;  the  white-topped  wagons  are  loaded 
with  domestic  goods,  with  sallow,  dispirited-look- 
ing women,  and  with  tow-headed  children;  while 
the  gaunt,  moody  frontiersmen  slouch  alongside, 
rifle  on  shoulder,  lank,  homely,  uncouth,  and  yet 
with  a  curious  suggestion  of  grim  strength  un- 
derlying it  all.  Or  cowboys  from  neighboring 
ranches  will  ride  over,  looking  for  lost  horses,  or 
seeing  if  their  cattle  have  strayed  off  the  range. 
But  this  is  all.  Civilization  seems  as  remote  as 
if  we  were  living  in  an  age  long  past.  The 
whole  existence  is  patriarchal  in  character;  it  is 
the  life  of  men  who  live  in  the  open,  who  tend 
their  herds  on  horseback,  who  go  armed  and 
ready  to  guard  their  lives  by  their  own  prowess, 
whose  wants  are  very  simple,  and  who  call  no 
man  master.  Ranching  is  an  occupation  like 
those  of  vigorous,  primitive  pastoral  peoples, 
having  little  in  common  with  the  humdrum,  work- 
aday business  world  of  the  nineteenth  century; 
and  the  free  ranchman  in  his  manner  of  life 
shows  more  kinship  to  an  Arab  sheik  than  to  a 
sleek  city  merchant  or  tradesman. 


THE  HOME  RANCH 


I 


THE  HOME  RANCH 

MY  home  ranch  lies  on  both  sides  of  the 
Little  Missouri,  the  nearest  ranchman 
above  me  being  about  twelve,  and  the 
nearest  below  me  about  ten,  miles  distant.  The 
general  course  of  the  stream  here  is  northerly, 
but,  while  flowing  through  my  ranch,  it  takes  a 
great  westerly  reach  of  some  three  miles,  walled 
in,  as  always,  between  chains  of  steep,  high  bluffs 
half  a  mile  or  more  apart.  The  stream  twists 
down  through  the  valley  in  long  sweeps,  leaving 
oval  wooded  bottoms,  first  on  one  side  and  then 
on  the  other;  and  in  an  open  glade  among  the 
thick-growing  timber  stands  the  long,  low  house 
of  hewn  logs. 

Just  in  front  of  the  ranch  veranda  is  a  line  of 
old  cottonwoods  that  shade  it  during  the  fierce 
heats  of  summer,  rendering  it  always  cool  and 
pleasant.  But  a  few  feet  beyond  these  trees 
comes  the  cut-off  bank  of  the  river,  through 
whose  broad,  sandy  bed  the  shallow  stream  winds 
as  if  lost,  except  when  a  freshet  fills  it  from  brim 
to  brim  with  foaming  yellow  water.  The  bluffs 
that  wall  in  the  river-valley  curve  back  in  semi- 

123 


124       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

circles,  rising  from  its  alluvial  bottom  generally 
as  abrupt  cliffs,  but  often  as  steep,  grassy  slopes 
that  lead  up  to  great  level  plateaus ;  and  the  line 
is  broken  every  mile  or  two  by  the  entrance  of  a 
coulee,  or  dry  creek,  whose  head  branches  may 
be  twenty  miles  back.  Above  us,  where  the  river 
comes  round  the  bend,  the  valley  is  very  narrow, 
and  the  high  buttes  bounding  it  rise,  sheer  and 
barren,  into  scalped  hill-peaks  and  naked  knife- 
blade  ridges. 

The  other  buildings  stand  in  the  same  open 
glade  with  the  ranch  house,  the  dense  growth  of 
cottonwoods  and  matted,  thorny  underbrush 
making  a  wall  all  about,  through  which  we  have 
chopped  our  wagon  roads  and  trodden  out  our 
own  bridle-paths.  The  cattle  have  now  trampled 
down  this  brush  a  little,  but  deer  still  lie  in  it,  only 
a  couple  of  hundred  yards  from  the  house;  and 
from  the  door  sometimes  in  the  evening  one  can 
see  them  peer  out  into  the  open,  or  make  their 
way  down,  timidly  and  cautiously,  to  drink  at 
the  river.  The  stable,  sheds  and  other  outbuild- 
ings, with  the  hayricks  and  the  pens  for  such  cat- 
tle as  we  bring  in  during  the  winter,  are  near 
the  house;  the  patch  of  fenced  garden  land  is 
on  the  edge  of  the  woods;  and  near  the  middle 
of  the  glade  stands  the  high,  circular  horse-cor- 
ral, with  a  snubbing-post  in  the  center,  and  a 


THE  HOME  RANCH  125 

wing  built  out  from  one  side  of  the  gate  entrance, 
so  that  the  saddle-band  can  be  driven  in  without 
trouble.  As  it  is  very  hard  to  work  cattle  where 
there  is  much  brush,  the  larger  cow-corral  is  some 
four  miles  off  on  an  open  bottom. 

A  ranchman's  life  is  certainly  a  very  pleasant 
one,  albeit  generally  varied  with  plenty  of  hard- 
ship and  anxiety.  Although  occasionally  he 
passes  days  of  severe  toil — for  example,  if  he 
goes  on  the  round-up  he  works  as  hard  as  any 
of  his  men — yet  he  no  longer  has  to  undergo 
the  monotonous  drudgery  attendant  upon  the 
tasks  of  the  cowboy  or  of  the  apprentice  in  the 
business.  His  fare  is  simple ;  but,  if  he  chooses, 
it  is  good  enough.  Many  ranches  are  provided 
with  nothing  at  all  but  salt  pork,  canned  goods 
and  bread;  indeed,  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  in 
traveling  through  the  cow  country  it  is  often  im- 
possible to  get  any  milk  or  butter;  but  this  is 
only  because  the  owners  or  managers  are  too  lazy 
to  take  enough  trouble  to  insure  their  own  com- 
fort. We  ourselves  always  keep  up  two  or  three 
cows,  choosing  such  as  are  naturally  tame,  and 
so  we  invariably  have  plenty  of  milk  and,  when 
there  is  time  for  churning,  a  good  deal  of  but- 
ter. We  also  keep  hens,  which,  in  spite  of  the 
damaging  inroads  of  hawks,  bob-cats  and  foxes, 
supply  us  with  eggs,  and  in  time  of  need,  when 


IS 


126       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

our  rifles  have  failed  to  keep  us  in  game,  with 
stewed,  roast  or  fried  chicken  also.  From  our 
garden  we  get  potatoes,  and  unless  drought, 
frost,  or  grasshoppers  interfere  (which  they  do 
about  every  second  year)  other  vegetables  as  well. 
For  fresh  meat  we  depend  chiefly  upon  our 
prowess  as  hunters. 

During  much  of  the  time  we  are  away  on  the 
different  round-ups,  that  "  wheeled  house,"  the 
great  four-horse  wagon,  being  then  our  home; 
but  when  at  the  ranch  our  routine  of  life  is  al- 
ways much  the  same,  save  during  the  excessively 
bitter  weather  of  midwinter,  when  there  is  little 
to  do  except  to  hunt,  if  the  days  are  fine  enough. 
We  breakfast  early — before  dawn  when  the 
nights  have  grown  long,  and  rarely  later  than 
sunrise,  even  in  midsummer.  Perhaps  before 
this  meal,  certainly  the  instant  it  is  over,  the  man 
whose  duty  it  is  rides  off  to  hunt  up  and  drive 
in  the  saddle-band.  Each  of  us  has  his  own 
string  of  horses,  eight  or  ten  in  number,  and  the 
whole  band  usually  split  up  into  two  or  three 
companies.  In  addition  to  the  scattered  groups 
of  the  saddle-band,  our  six  or  eight  mares,  with 
their  colts,  keep  by  themselves,  and  are  rarely 
bothered  by  us,  as  no  cowboy  ever  rides  anything 
but  horses,  because  mares  give  great  trouble 
where  all  the  animals  have  to  be  herded  to- 


THE  HOME  RANCH  127 

gether.  Once  every  two  or  three  days  somebody 
rides  round  and  finds  out  where  each  of  these 
smaller  bands  is,  but  the  man  who  goes  out  in  the 
morning  merely  gathers  one  bunch.  He  drives 
these  into  the  corral,  the  other  men  (who  have 
been  lolling  idly  about  the  house  or  stable,  fixing 
their  saddles  or  doing  any  odd  job)  coming  out 
with  their  ropes  as  soon  as  they  hear  the  patter 
of  the  unshod  hoofs  and  the  shouts  of  the  cow- 
boy driver.  Going  into  the  corral,  and  standing 
near  the  center,  each  of  us  picks  out  some  one  of 
his  own  string  from  among  the  animals  that  are 
trotting  and  running  in  a  compact  mass  round 
the  circle ;  and  after  one  or  more  trials,  according 
to  his  skill,  ropes  it  and  leads  it  out.  When  all 
have  caught  their  horses  the  rest  are  again  turned 
lose,  together  with  those  that  have  been  kept  up 
overnight.  Some  horses  soon  get  tame  and  do 
not  need  to  be  roped;  my  pet  cutting  pony,  little 
Muley,  and  good  old  Manitou,  my  companion  in 
so  many  hunting  trips,  will  neither  of  them  stay 
with  the  rest  of  their  fellows  that  are  jamming 
and  jostling  each  other  as  they  rush  round  in 
the  dust  of  the  corral,  but  they  very  sensibly  walk 
up  and  stand  quietly  with  the  men  in  the  middle, 
by  the  snubbing-post.  Both  are  great  pets, 
Manitou  in  particular;  the  wise  old  fellow  being 
very  fond  of  bread  and  sometimes  coming  up  of 


128       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

his  own  accord  to  the  ranch  house  and  even  put- 
ting his  head  into  the  door  to  beg  for  it. 

Once  saddled,  the  men  ride  off  on  their  dif- 
ferent tasks;  for  almost  everything  is  done  in 
the  saddle,  except  that  in  winter  we  cut  our  fire- 
wood and  quarry  our  coal — both  on  the  ranch — 
and  in  summer  attend  to  the  garden  and  put  up 
what  wild  hay  we  need. 

If  any  horses  have  strayed,  one  or  two  of  the 
men  will  be  sent  off  to  look  for  them;  for  hunt- 
ing lost  horses  is  one  of  the  commonest  and  most 
irksome  of  our  duties.  Every  outfit  always  has 
certain  of  its  horses  at  large,  and  if  they  remain 
out  long  enough  they  become  as  wild  and  wary 
as  deer  and  have  to  be  regularly  surrounded  and 
run  down. 

If  the  men  do  not  go  horse-hunting  they  may 
ride  off  over  the  range;  for  there  is  generally 
some  work  to  be  done  among  the  cattle,  such  as 
driving  in  and  branding  calves  that  have  been 
overlooked  by  the  round-up,  or  getting  some  ani- 
mal out  of  a  bog-hole.  During  the  early  spring 
months,  before  the  round-up  begins,  the  chief 
work  is  in  hauling  out  mired  cows  and  steers; 
and  if  we  did  not  keep  a  sharp  lookout  the  losses 
at  this  season  would  be  very  serious.  As  long 
as  everything  is  frozen  solid  there  is,  of  course, 
no  danger   from  miring;  but  when  the   thaw 


THE  HOME  RANCH  129 

comes,  along  towards  the  beginning  of  March, 
a  period  of  new  danger  to  the  cattle  sets  in. 
When  the  ice  breaks  up,  the  streams  are  left  with 
an  edging  of  deep  bog,  while  the  quicksand  is  at 
its  worst.  As  the  frost  goes  out  of  the  soil,  the 
ground  round  every  little  alkali-spring  changes 
into  a  trembling  quagmire,  and  deep  holes  of 
slimy,  tenacious  mud  form  in  the  bottom  of  all 
the  gullies.  The  cattle,  which  have  had  to  live 
on  snow  for  three  or  four  months,  are  very  eager 
for  water,  and  are  weak  and  in  poor  condition. 
They  rush  heedlessly  into  any  pool  and  stand 
there,  drinking  gallons  of  the  icy  water  and  sink- 
ing steadily  into  the  mud.  When  they  try  to 
get  out  they  are  already  too  deep  down,  and  are 
too  weak  to  make  a  prolonged  struggle.  After 
one  or  two  fits  of  desperate  floundering  they  re- 
sign themselves  to  their  fate  with  dumb  apathy 
and  are  lost,  unless  some  one  of  us  riding  about 
discovers  and  hauls  them  out. 

When  the  river  is  up  it  is  a  very  common  thing 
for  a  horseman  to  have  great  difficulty  in  cross- 
ing, for  the  swift,  brown  water  runs  over  a  bed 
of  deep  quicksand  that  is  ever  shifting.  An  in- 
experienced horse,  or  a  mule, — for  a  mule  is  use- 
less in  mud  or  quicksand, — becomes  mad  with 
fright  in  such  a  crossing,  and,  after  speedily  ex- 
hausting   its   strength   in   wild   struggles,    will 


130       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

throw  itself  on  its  side  and  drown  unless  the  rider 
gets  it  out.  An  old  horse  used  to  such  work 
will,  on  the  contrary,  take  matters  quietly  and 
often  push  along  through  really  dangerous 
quicksand.  Old  Manitou  never  loses  his  head 
for  an  instant;  but,  now  resting  a  few  seconds, 
now  feeling  his  way  cautiously  forward,  and  now 
making  two  or  three  desperate  plunges,  will  go 
on  wherever  a  horse  possibly  can.  It  is  really 
dangerous  crossing  some  of  the  creeks,  as  the  bot- 
tom may  give  way  where  it  seems  hardest;  and 
if  one  is  alone  he  may  work  hours  in  vain  before 
getting  his  horse  out,  even  after  taking  off  both 
saddle  and  bridle,  the  only  hope  being  to  head  it 
so  that  every  plunge  takes  it  an  inch  or  two  in 
the  right  direction. 

Nor  are  mud-holes  the  only  danger  the  horse- 
man has  to  fear;  for  in  much  of  the  Bad  Lands 
the  buttes  are  so  steep  and  broken  that  it  needs 
genuine  mountaineering  skill  to  get  through 
them,  and  no  horse  but  a  Western  one,  bred  to 
the  business,  could  accomplish  the  feat.  In 
many  parts  of  our  country  it  is  impossible  for 
a  horseman  who  does  not  know  the  land  to  cross 
it,  and  it  is  difficult  enough  even  for  an  experi- 
enced hand. 

Occasionally  it  is  imperatively  necessary  to 
cross  some  of  the  worst  parts  of  the>  Bad  Lands 


THE  HOME  RANCH  131 

with  a  wagon,  and  such  a  trip  is  exhausting  and 
laborious  beyond  belief.  Often  the  wagon  will 
have  to  be  taken  to  pieces  every  few  hundred 
yards  in  order  to  get  it  over  a  ravine,  lower  it 
into  a  valley,  or  drag  it  up  a  cliff.  One  outfit, 
that  a  year  ago  tried  to  take  a  short  cut  through 
some  of  the  Bad  Lands  of  the  Powder  River, 
made  just  four  miles  in  three  days,  and  then  had 
to  come  back  to  their  starting-point  after  all. 
But  with  only  saddle-horses  we  feel  that  it  must 
be  a  very  extraordinary  country  indeed  if,  in  case 
of  necessity,  we  cannot  go  through  it. 

The  long  forenoon's  work,  with  its  attendant 
mishaps  to  man  and  beast,  being  over,  the  men 
who  have  been  out  among  the  horses  and  cattle 
come  riding  in,  to  be  joined  by  their  fellows — 
if  any  there  be — who  have  been  hunting,  or  hay- 
ing, or  chopping  wood.  The  midday  dinner  is 
variable  as  to  time,  for  it  comes  when  the  men 
have  returned  from  their  work ;  but,  whatever  be 
the  hour,  it  is  the  most  substantial  meal  of  the 
day,  and  wre  feel  that  we  have  little  fault  to  find 
with  a  table  on  the  clean  cloth  of  which  are 
spread  platters  of  smoked  elk  meat,  loaves  of 
good  bread,  jugs  and  bowls  of  milk,  saddles  of 
venison  or  broiled  antelope  steaks,  perhaps  roast 
and  fried  prairie  chickens,  with  eggs,  butter, 
wild  plums,  and  tea  or  coffee. 

8 


132       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

The  afternoon's  tasks  are  usually  much  the 
same  as  the  morning's,  but  this  time  is  often 
spent  in  doing  the  odds  and  ends;  as,  for  in- 
stance, it  may  be  devoted  to  breaking-in  a  new 
horse.  Large  outfits  generally  hire  a  bronco- 
buster  to  do  this ;  but  we  ourselves  almost  always 
break  our  own  horses,  two  or  three  of  my  men 
being  pretty  good  riders,  although  none  of  them 
can  claim  to  be  anything  out  of  the  common.  A 
first-class  flash  rider  or  bronco-buster  receives 
high  wages,  and  deserves  them,  for  he  follows  a 
most  dangerous  trade,  at  which  no  man  can  hope 
to  grow  old ;  his  work  being  infinitely  harder  than 
that  of  an  Eastern  horse-breaker  or  rough-rider, 
because  he  has  to  do  it  in  such  a  limited  time.  A 
good  rider  is  a  good  rider  all  the  world  over ;  but 
an  Eastern  or  English  horse-breaker  and  West- 
ern bronco-buster  have  so  little  in  common  with 
each  other  as  regards  style  or  surroundings,  and 
are  so  totally  out  of  place  in  doing  each  other's 
work,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  get  either  to 
admit  that  the  other  has  any  merits  at  all  as  a 
horseman,  for  neither  could  sit  in  the  saddle  of 
the  other  or  could  without  great  difficulty  per- 
form his  task.  The  ordinary  Eastern  seat,  which 
approaches  more  or  less  the  seat  of  a  cross-coun- 
try rider  or  fox-hunter,  is  nearly  as  different 
from  the  cowboy's  seat  as  from  that  of  a  man 


THE  HOME  RANCH  133 

who  rides  bareback.  The  stirrups  on  a  stock  sad- 
dle are  much  farther  back  than  they  are  on  an 
ordinary  English  one  (a  difference  far  more  im- 
portant than  the  high  horn  and  cantle  of  the 
former),  and  the  man  stands  nearly  erect  in 
them,  instead  of  having  his  legs  bent;  and  he 
grips  with  the  thighs  and  not  with  the  knees, 
throwing  his  feet  well  out.  Some  of  the  things 
he  teaches  his  horse  would  be  wholly  useless  to  an 
Eastern  equestrian :  for  example,  one  of  the  first 
lessons  the  newly-caught  animal  has  to  learn  is 
not  to  "run  on  a  rope";  and  he  is  taught  this  by 
being  violently  snubbed  up,  probably  turning  a 
somersault,  the  first  two  or  three  times  that  he 
feels  the  noose  settle  round  his  neck,  and  makes 
a  mad  rush  for  liberty.  The  snubbing-post  is 
the  usual  adjunct  in  teaching  such  a  lesson;  but 
a  skillful  man  can  do  without  any  help  and  throw 
a  horse  clean  over  by  holding  the  rope  tight 
against  the  left  haunch,  at  the  same  time  leaning 
so  far  back,  with  the  legs  straight  in  front,  that 
the  heels  dig  deep  into  the  ground  when  the  strain 
comes,  and  the  horse,  running  out  with  the  slack 
of  the  rope,  is  brought  up  standing,  or  even 
turned  head  over  heels  by  the  shock.  Cowboys 
are  probably  the  only  working-men  in  the  world 
who  invariably  wear  gloves,  buckskin  gauntlets 
being  preferred,  as  otherwise  the  ropes  would 


134       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

soon  take  every  particle  of  skin  off  their  hands. 

A  bronco-buster  has  to  work  by  such  violent 
methods  in  consequence  of  the  short  amount  of 
time  at  his  command.  Horses  are  cheap,  each 
outfit  has  a  great  many,  and  the  wages  for  break- 
ing an  animal  are  but  five  or  ten  dollars.  Three 
rides,  of  an  hour  or  two  each,  on  as  many  con- 
secutive days,  are  the  outside  number  a  bronco- 
buster  deems  necessary  before  turning  an  animal 
over  as  "broken."  The  average  bronco-buster, 
however,  handles  horses  so  very  rudely  that  we 
prefer,  aside  from  motives  of  economy,  to  break 
our  own;  and  this  is  always  possible,  if  we  take 
enough  time.  The  best  and  quietest  horses  on 
the  ranch  are  far  from  being  those  broken  by  the 
best  riders;  on  the  contrary,  they  are  those  that 
have  been  handled  most  gently,  although  firmly, 
and  that  have  had  the  greatest  number  of  days 
devoted  to  their  education. 

Some  horses,  of  course,  are  almost  incurably 
vicious,  and  must  be  conquered  by  main  force. 
One  pleasing  brute  on  my  ranch  will  at  times 
rush  at  a  man  open-mouthed  like  a  wolf,  and  this 
is  a  regular  trick  of  the  range-stallions. 

If  not  breaking  horses,  mending  saddles  or  do- 
ing something  else  of  the  sort,  the  cowboys  will 
often  while  away  their  leisure  moments  by  prac- 
tising with  the  rope.     A  forty-foot  lariat  is  the 


THE  HOME  RANCH  135 

one  commonly  used,  for  the  ordinary  range  at 
which  a  man  can  throw  it  is  only  about  twenty- 
five  feet.  Few  men  can  throw  forty  feet;  and 
to  do  this,  taking  into  account  the  coil,  needs  a 
sixty-foot  rope. 

When  the  day's  work  is  over  we  take  supper, 
and  bed-time  comes  soon  afterward,  for  the  men 
who  live  on  ranches  sleep  well  and  soundly.  As 
a  rule,  the  nights  are  cool  and  bracing,  even  in 
midsummer ;  except  when  we  occasionally  have  a 
spell  of  burning  weather,  with  a  steady,  hot  wind 
that  blows  in  our  faces  like  a  furnace  blast,  send- 
ing the  thermometer  far  up  above  a  hundred  and 
making  us  gasp  for  breath,  even  at  night,  in  the 
dry-baked  heat  of  the  air.  But  it  is  only  rarely 
that  we  get  a  few  days  of  this  sort ;  generally,  no 
matter  how  unbearable  the  heat  of  the  day  has 
been,  we  can  at  least  sleep  pleasantly  at  night. 

A  ranchman's  work  is,  of  course,  free  from 
much  of  the  sameness  attendant  upon  that  of  a 
mere  cowboy.  One  day  he  will  ride  out  with  his 
men  among  the  cattle,  or  after  strayed  horses; 
the  next  day  he  may  hunt,  so  as  to  keep  the  ranch 
in  meat ;  then  he  can  make  the  tour  of  his  outly- 
ing camps;  or,  again,  may  join  one  of  the  round- 
ups for  a  week  or  two,  perhaps  keeping  with  it 
the  entire  time  it  is  working.  On  occasions  he 
will  have  a  good  deal  of  spare  time  on  his  hands, 


136      STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

which,  if  he  chooses,  he  can  spend  in  reading  or 
writing.  If  he  cares  for  books,  there  will  be 
many  a  worn  volume  in  the  primitive  little  sit- 
ting-room, with  its  log  walls  and  huge  fire-place ; 
but  after  a  hard  day's  work  a  man  will  not  read 
much,  but  will  rock  to  and  fro  in  the  flickering 
firelight,  talking  sleepily  over  his  success  in  the 
day's  chase  and  the  difficulty  he  has  had  with  the 
cattle;  or  else  may  simply  lie  stretched  at  full 
length  on  the  elk-hides  and  wolf-skins  in  front 
of  the  hearthstone,  listening  in  drowsy  silence  to 
the  roar  and  crackle  of  the  blazing  logs  and  to 
the  moaning  of  the  wind  outside. 

In  the  sharp  fall  weather  the  riding  is  deli- 
cious all  day  long;  but  even  in  the  late  spring, 
and  all  through  the  summer,  we  try,  if  we  can, 
to  do  our  work  before  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  if 
going  on  a  long  ride,  whether  to  hunt  or  for  other 
purposes,  leave  the  ranch  house  by  dawn. 

The  early  rides  in  the  spring  mornings  have 
a  charm  all  their  own,  for  they  are  taken  when, 
for  the  one  and  only  time  during  the  year,  the 
same  brown  landscape  of  these  high  plains  turns 
to  a  vivid  green,  as  the  new  grass  sprouts  and  the 
trees  and  bushes  thrust  forth  the  young  leaves; 
and  at  dawn,  with  the  dew  glittering  every- 
where, all  things  show  at  their  best  and  freshest. 
The  flowers  are  out  and  a  man  may  gallop  for 


THE  HOME  RANCH  137 

miles  at  a  stretch  with  his  horse's  hoofs  sinking 
at  every  stride  into  the  carpet  of  prairie  roses, 
whose  short  stalks  lift  the  beautiful  blossoms  but 
a  few  inches  from  the  ground.  Even  in  the 
waste  places  the  cactuses  are  blooming;  and  one 
kind  in  particular,  a  dwarfish,  globular  plant, 
with  its  mass  of  splendid  crimson  flowers  glows 
against  the  sides  of  the  gray  buttes  like  a  splash 
of  flame. 

The  ravines,  winding  about  and  splitting  into 
a  labyrinth  of  coulees,  with  chains  of  rounded 
hills  to  separate  them,  have  groves  of  trees  in 
their  bottoms,  along  the  sides  of  the  water- 
courses. In  these  are  found  the  blacktail  deer, 
and  his  cousin,  the  whitetail,  too,  with  his  flaunt- 
ing flag;  but  in  the  springtime,  when  we  are 
after  antelope  only,  we  must  go  out  farther  to 
the  flat  prairie  land  on  the  divide.  Here,  in 
places,  the  level,  grassy  plains  are  strewn  with 
mounds  and  hillocks  of  red  or  gray  scoria,  that 
stand  singly  or  clustered  into  little  groups,  their 
tops  crested,  or  their  sides  covered,  by  queer  de- 
tached masses  of  volcanic  rock,  wrought  into 
strange  shapes  by  the  dead  forces  whose  blind, 
hidden  strength  long  ago  called  them  into  being. 
The  road  our  wagons  take,  when  the  water  is  too 
high  for  us  to  come  down  the  river  bottoms, 
stretches  far  ahead — two  dark,  straight,  parallel 


138        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

furrows  which  merge  into  one  in  the  distance. 
Quaint  little  horned  frogs  crawl  sluggishly  along 
in  the  wheel  tracks,  and  the  sickle-billed  curlews 
run  over  the  ground  or  soar  above  and  around 
the  horsemen,  uttering  their  mournful,  never- 
ceasing  clamor.  The  grassland  stretches  out  in 
the  sunlight  like  a  sea,  every  wind  bending  the 
blades  into  a  ripple,  and  flecking  the  prairie  with 
shifting  patches  of  a  different  green  from  that 
around,  exactly  as  the  touch  of  a  light  squall  or 
wind-gust  will  fleck  the  smooth  surface  of  the 
ocean. 

In  the  spring  mornings  the  rider  on  the  plains 
will  hear  bird  songs  unknown  in  the  East.  The 
Missouri  skylark  sings  while  soaring  above  the 
great  plateaus  so  high  in  the  air  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  see  the  bird;  and  this  habit  of  singing 
while  soaring  it  shares  with  some  sparrow-like 
birds  that  are  often  found  in  company  with  it. 
The  white-shouldered  lark-bunting,  in  its  livery 
of  black,  has  rich,  full  notes,  and  as  it  sings  on 
the  wing  it  reminds  one  of  the  bobolink ;  and  the 
sweet-voiced  lark-finch  also  utters  its  song  in  the 
air.  These  birds,  and  most  of  the  sparrows  of 
the  plains,  are  characteristic  of  this  region. 

But  many  of  our  birds,  especially  those  found 
in  the  wooded  river  bottoms,  answer  to  those  of 
the  East ;  only  almost  each  one  has  some  marked 


THE  HOME  RANCH  1S9 

point  of  difference  from  its  Eastern  representa- 
tive. The  bluebird  out  West  is  very  much  of  a 
blue  bird  indeed,  for  it  has  no  "earth  tinge"  on 
its  breast  at  all;  while  the  indigo-bird,  on  the 
contrary,  has  gained  the  ruddy  markings  that  the 
other  has  lost.  The  flicker  has  the  shafts  of  its 
wing  and  tail  quills  colored  orange  instead  of 
yellow.  The  towhee  has  lost  all  title  to  its  name, 
for  its  only  cry  is  a  mew  like  that  of  a  cat-bird ; 
while,  most  wonderful  of  all,  the  meadow-lark 
has  found  a  rich,  strong  voice,  and  is  one  of  the 
sweetest  and  most  incessant  singers  we  have. 

Throughout  June  the  thickets  and  groves 
about  the  ranch  houses  are  loud  with  bird  music 
from  before  dawn  till  long  after  sunrise.  The 
thrashers  have  sung  all  the  night  through  from 
among  the  thorn-bushes  if  there  has  been  a  moon, 
or  even  if  there  has  been  bright  starlight;  and 
before  the  first  glimmer  of  gray  the  bell-like, 
silvery  songs  of  the  shy  woodland  thrushes  chime 
in;  while  meadow-lark,  robin,  bluebird  and  song 
sparrow,  together  with  many  rarer  singers,  like 
the  grosbeak,  join  in  swelling  the  chorus.  There 
are  some  would-be  singers  whose  intention  is  bet- 
ter than  their  execution.  Blackbirds  of  several 
kinds  are  plenty  round  the  house  and  stables, 
walking  about  with  a  knowing  air,  like  so  many 
dwarf  crows;  and  now  and  then  a  flock  of  yel- 


140      STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

low-heads  will  mix  for  a  few  days  witH  their 
purple  or  rusty-colored  brethren.  The  males  of 
these  yellow-headed  grakles  are  really  handsome, 
their  orange  and  yellow  heads  contrasting  finely 
with  the  black  of  the  rest  of  their  plumage;  but 
their  voices  are  discordant  to  a  degree.  When 
a  flock  has  done  feeding  it  will  often  light  in 
straggling  order  among  the  trees  in  front  of  the 
veranda,  and  then  the  males  will  begin  to  sing, 
or  rather  to  utter  the  most  extraordinary  collec- 
tion of  broken  sounds — creakings,  gurglings, 
hisses,  twitters,  and  every  now  and  then  a  liquid 
note  or  two.  It  is  like  an  accentuated  represen- 
tation of  the  noise  made  by  a  flock  of  common 
blackbirds.  At  nightfall  the  poor-wills  begin  to 
utter  their  boding  call  from  the  wooded  ravines 
back  in  the  hills;  not  "whip-poor-will,"  as  in  the 
East,  but  with  two  syllables  only.  They  often 
come  round  the  ranch  house.  Late  one  evening 
I  had  been  sitting  motionless  on  the  veranda, 
looking  out  across  the  water  and  watching  the 
green  and  brown  of  the  hill-tops  change  to  pur- 
ple and  umber  and  then  fade  off  into  shadowy 
gray  as  the  somber  darkness  deepened.  Sud- 
denly a  poor-will  lit  on  the  floor  beside  me  and 
stayed  some  little  time;  now  and  then  uttering 
its  mournful  cries,  then  ceasing  for  a  few  mo- 
ments as  it  flitted  round  after  insects,  and  again 


' 


A  bucking  bronco. 


THE  HOME  RANCH  143 

returning  to  the  same  place  to  begin  anew.  The 
little  owls,  too,  call  to  each  other  with  tremulous, 
quavering  voices  throughout  the  livelong  night,  as 
they  sit  in  the  creaking  trees  that  overhang  the 
roof.  Now  and  then  we  hear  the  wilder  voices 
of  the  wilderness,  from  animals  that  in  the  hours 
of  darkness  do  not  fear  the  neighborhood  of 
man:  the  coyotes  wail  like  dismal  ventriloquists, 
or  the  silence  may  be  broken  by  the  strident  chal- 
lenge of  a  lynx,  or  by  the  snorting  and  stamp- 
ing of  a  deer  that  has  come  to  the  edge  of  the 
open. 

In  the  hot  noontide  hours  of  midsummer  the 
broad  ranch  veranda,  always  in  the  shade,  is  al- 
most the  only  spot  where  a  man  can  be  comfort- 
able ;  but  here  he  can  sit  for  hours  at  a  time,  lean- 
ing back  in  his  rocking-chair,  as  he  reads  or 
smokes,  or  with  half -closed,  dreamy  eyes  gazes 
across  the  shallow,  nearly  dry  river-bed  to  the 
wooded  bottoms  opposite,  and  to  the  plateaus  ly- 
ing back  of  them.  Against  the  sheer  white  faces 
of  the  cliffs,  that  come  down  without  a  break,  the 
dark  green  tree-tops  stand  out  in  bold  relief.  In 
the  hot,  lifeless  air  all  objects  that  are  not  nearby 
seem  to  sway  and  waver.  There  are  few  sounds 
to  break  the  stillness.  From  the  upper  branches 
of  the  Cottonwood  trees  overhead,  whose  shim- 
mering, tremulous  leaves  are  hardly  ever  quiet, 


144       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

but  if  the  wind  stirs  at  all,  rustle  and  quiver  and 
sigh  all  day  long,  comes  every  now  and  then  the 
soft,  melancholy  cooing  of  the  mourning  dove, 
whose  voice  always  seems  far  away  and  expresses 
more  than  anv  other  sound  in  nature  the  sadness 
of  gentle,  hopeless,  never-ending  grief.  The 
other  birds  are  still;  and  very  few  animals  move 
about.  Now  and  then  the  black  shadow  of  a 
wheeling  vulture  falls  on  the  sun-scorched 
ground.  The  cattle,  that  have  strung  down  in 
long  files  from  the  hills,  lie  quietly  on  the  sand- 
bars, except  that  some  of  the  bulls  keep  traveling 
up  and  down,  bellowing  and  routing  or  giving 
vent  to  long,  surly  grumblings  as  they  paw  the 
sand  and  toss  it  up  with  their  horns.  At  times 
the  horses,  too,  will  come  down  to  drink,  and  to 
splash  and  roll  in  the  water. 

The  prairie-dogs  alone  are  not  daunted  by  the 
heat,  but  sit  at  the  mouths  of  their  burrows  with 
their  usual  pert  curiosity.  They  are  bothersome 
little  fellows,  and  most  prolific,  increasing  in 
spite  of  the  perpetual  war  made  on  them  by  every 
carnivorous  bird  and  beast.  One  of  their  worst 
foes  is  the  black-footed  ferret,  a  handsome, 
rather  rare  animal,  somewhat  like  a  mink,  with  a 
yellow-brown  body  and  dark  feet  and  mask.  It 
is  a  most  bloodthirsty  little  brute,  feeding  on  all 
small  animals  and  ground  birds.     It  will  readily 


THE  HOME  RANCH  145 

master  a  jack -rabbit,  will  kill  very  young  fawns 
if  it  finds  them  in  the  mother's  absence,  and 
works  extraordinary  havoc  in  a  dog  towTn,  as  it 
can  follow  the  wretched  little  beasts  down  into 
the  burrows.  In  one  instance,  I  knew  of  a  black- 
footed  ferret  making  a  succession  of  inroads  on 
a  ranchman's  poultry,  killing  and  carrying  off 
most  of  them  before  it  was  trapped.  Coyotes, 
foxes,  swifts,  badgers  and  skunks  also  like  to 
lurk  about  the  dog  towns.  Of  the  skunks,  by 
the  way,  wre  had  last  year  altogether  too  much; 
there  was  a  perfect  plague  of  them  all  along  the 
river,  and  they  took  to  trying  to  get  into  the  huts, 
with  the  stupid  pertinacity  of  the  species.  At 
every  ranch  house  dozens  were  killed,  we  our- 
selves bagging  thirty-three,  all  slain  near  the 
house,  and  one,  to  our  unspeakable  sorrow,  in  it. 
In  making  a  journey  over  ground  we  know, 
during  the  hot  weather  we  often  prefer  to  ride 
by  moonlight.  The  moon  shines  very  brightly 
through  the  dry,  clear  night  air,  turning  the  gray 
buttes  into  glimmering  silver;  and  the  horses 
travel  far  more  readily  and  easily  than  under  the 
glaring  noonday  sun.  The  road  between  my  up- 
per and  lower  ranch  houses  is  about  forty  miles 
long,  sometimes  following  the  river-bed,  and  then 
again  branching  off  inland,  crossing  the  great 
plateaus  and  winding  through  the  ravines  of  the 


146       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

broken  country.  It  is  a  five-hours'  fair  ride;  and 
so,  in  a  hot  spell,  we  like  to  take  it  during  the 
cool  of  the  night,  starting  at  sunset.  After 
nightfall  the  face  of  the  country  seems  to  alter 
marvelously,  and  the  clear  moonlight  only  inten- 
sifies the  change.  The  river  gleams  like  running 
quicksilver,  and  the  moonbeams  play  over  the 
grassy  stretches  of  the  plateaus  and  glance  off 
the  wind-rippled  blades  as  they  would  from 
water.  The  Bad  Lands  seem  to  be  stranger  and 
wilder  than  ever,  the  silvery  rays  turning  the 
country  into  a  kind  of  grim  fairyland.  The 
grotesque,  fantastic  outlines  of  the  higher  cliffs 
stand  out  with  startling  clearness,  while  the  lower 
buttes  have  become  formless,  misshapen  masses, 
and  the  deep  gorges  are  in  black  shadow;  in 
the  darkness  there  will  be  no  sound  but  the  rhyth- 
mic echo  of  the  hoof -beats  of  the  horses  and  the 
steady,  metallic  clank  of  the  steel  bridle-chains. 
But  the  fall  is  the  time  for  riding;  for  in  the 
keen,  frosty  air  neither  man  nor  beast  will  tire, 
though  out  from  the  dawn  until  the  shadows  have 
again  waxed  long  and  the  daylight  has  begun 
to  wane,  warning  all  to  push  straight  for  home 
without  drawing  rein.  Then  deer-saddles  and 
elk-haunches  hang  from  the  trees  near  the  house ; 
and  one  can  have  good  sport  right  on  the  sand 
of  the  river-bed,  for  we  always  keep  shot-gun 


THE  HOME  RANCH  147 

or  rifle  at  hand,  to  be  ready  for  any  prairie  chick- 
ens, or  for  such  of  the  passing  water-fowl  as 
light  in  the  river  near  us.  Occasionally  we  take 
a  shot  at  a  flock  of  waders,  among  which  the 
pretty  avocets  are  the  most  striking  in  looks  and 
manners.  Prairie  fowl  are  quite  plenty  all 
round  us,  and  occasionally  small  flocks  come 
fairly  down  into  the  yard,  or  perch  among  the 
trees  near  by.  At  evening  they  fly  down  to  the 
river  to  drink,  and  as  they  sit  on  the  sand-bars 
offer  fine  marks  for  the  rifles.  So  do  the  geese 
and  ducks  when  they  occasionally  light  on  the 
same  places  or  paddle  leisurely  downstream  in 
the  middle  of  the  river;  but  to  make  much  of  a 
bag  of  these  we  have  to  use  the  heavy  No.  10, 
choke-bore  shot-gun,  while  the  little  16-bore 
fowling-piece  is  much  the  handiest  for  prairie 
fowl.  A  good  many  different  kinds  of  water- 
fowl pass,  ranging  in  size  from  a  teal  duck  to  a 
Canada  goose,  and  all'of  them  at  times  help  to 
eke  out  our  bill  of  fare.  The  snow  geese  and 
common  wild  geese  are  what  we  usually  kill,  how- 
ever. 

Sometimes  strings  of  sandhill  cranes  fly  along 
the  river,  their  guttural  clangor  being  heard  very 
far  off.  They  usually  light  on  a  plateau,  where 
sometimes  they  form  rings  and  go  through  a 
series  of  queer  antics,  dancing  and  posturing  to 


148       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

each  other.  They  are  exceedingly  wide-awake 
birds,  and  more  shy  and  wary  than  antelope,  so 
that  they  are  rarely  shot;  yet  once  I  succeeded 
in  stalking  up  to  a  group  in  the  early  morning, 
and  firing  into  them  rather  at  random,  my  bullet 
killed  a  full-grown  female.  Its  breast,  when 
roasted,  proved  to  be  very  good  eating. 

Sometimes  we  vary  our  diet  with  fish — wall- 
eyed pike,  ugly,  slimy  catfish,  and  other  uncouth 
finny  things,  looking  very  fit  denizens  of  the 
mud-choked  water;  but  they  are  good  eating 
withal,  in  spite  of  their  uncanny  appearance. 
We  usually  catch  them  with  set  lines,  left  out 
over-night  in  the  deeper  pools. 


THE  ROUND-UP 


THE  ROUND-UP 

I.      PREPARING   FOR  THE  ROUND-UP 

DURING  the  winter-time  there  is  ordinar- 
ily but  little  work  done  among  the  cattle. 
.There  is  some  line  riding,  and  a  continual 
lookout  is  kept  for  the  very  weak  animals, — usu- 
ally cows  and  calves,  who  have  to  be  driven  in, 
fed  and  housed;  but  most  of  the  stock  are  left 
to  shift  for  themselves,  undisturbed.  Almost 
every  stock-growers'  association  forbids  brand- 
ing any  calves  before  the  spring  round-up.  If 
great  bands  of  cattle  wander  off  the  range,  par- 
ties may  be  fitted  out  to  go  after  them  and  bring 
them  back ;  but  this  is  only  done  when  absolutely 
necessary,  as  when  the  drift  of  the  cattle  has 
been  towards  an  Indian  reservation  or  a  settled 
granger  country,  for  the  weather  is  very  severe, 
and  the  horses  are  so  poor  that  their  food  must 
be  carried  along. 

The  bulk  of  the  work  is  done  during  the  sum- 
mer, including  the  late  spring  and  early  fall,  and 
consists  mainly  in  a  succession  of  round-ups,  be- 

151 


152      STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

ginning,  with  us,  in  May  and  ending  towards  the 
last  of  October. 

But  a  good  deal  *nay  be  done  in  the  intervals 
by  riding  over  one's  range.  Frequently,  too, 
herding  will  be  practised  on  a  large  scale. 

Still  more  important  is  the  "trail"  work;  cat- 
tle, while  driven  from  one  range  to  another,  or 
to  a  shipping  point  for  beef,  being  said  to  be 
"on  the  trail."  For  years  the  over-supply  from 
the  vast  breeding  ranches  to  the  south,  especially 
in  Texas,  has  been  driven  northward  in  large 
herds,  either  to  the  shipping  towns  along  the 
great  railroads,  or  else  to  the  fattening  ranges 
of  the  Northwest;  it  having  been  found,  so  far, 
that  while  the  calf  crop  is  larger  in  the  South, 
beeves  become  much  heavier  in  the  North. 
Such  cattle,  for  the  most  part,  went  along  tol- 
erably well-marked  routes  or  trails,  which  became 
for  the  time  being  of  great  importance,  flourish- 
ing— and  extremely  lawless — towns  growing  up 
along  them;  but  with  the  growth  of  the  railroad 
system,  and  above  all  with  the  filling  up  of  the 
northern  ranges,  these  trails  have  steadily  be- 
come of  less  and  less  consequence,  though  many 
herds  still  travel  them  on  their  way  to  the  al- 
ready crowded  ranges  of  western  Dakota  and 
Montana,  or  to  the  Canadian  regions  beyond. 
The   trail   work   is   something   by   itself.     The 


THE  ROUND-UP  153 

herds  may  be  on  the  trail  several  months,  averag- 
ing fifteen  miles  or  less  a  day.  The  cowboys  ac- 
companying each  have  to  undergo  much  hard 
toil,  of  a  peculiarly  same  and  wearisome  kind,  on 
account  of  the  extreme  slowness  with  which  ev- 
erything must  be  done,  as  trail  cattle  should  never 
be  hurried.  The  foreman  of  a  trail  outfit  must 
be  not  only  a  veteran  cowhand,  but  also  a  mir- 
acle of  patience  and  resolution. 

Round-up  work  is  far  less  irksome,  there  being 
an  immense  amount  of  dash  and  excitement  con- 
nected with  it;  and  when  once  the  cattle  are  on 
the  range,  the  important  work  is  done  during  the 
round-up.  On  cow  ranches,  or  wherever  there 
is  breeding  stock,  the  spring  round-up  is  the 
great  event  of  the  season,  as  it  is  then  that  the 
bulk  of  the  calves  are  branded.  It  usually  lasts 
six  weeks  or  thereabouts ;  but  its  end  by  no  means 
implies  rest  for  the  stockman.  On  the  contrary, 
as  soon  as  it  is  over,  wagons  are  sent  to  work  out- 
of-the-way  parts  of  the  country  that  have  been 
passed  over,  but  where  cattle  are  supposed  to 
have  drifted;  and  by  the  time  these  have  come 
back  the  first  beef  round-up  has  begun,  and 
thereafter  beeves  are  steadily  gathered  and 
shipped,  at  least  from  among  the  larger  herds, 
until  cold  weather  sets  in;  and  in  the  fall  there 
is  another  round-up,  to  brand  the  late  calves  and 


154*       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

see  that  the  stock  is  got  back  on  the  range.  As 
all  of  these  round-ups  are  of  one  character,  a 
description  of  the  most  important,  taking  place 
in  the  spring,  will  be  enough. 

In  April  we  begin  to  get  up  the  horses. 
Throughout  the  winter  very  few  have  been  kept 
for  use,  as  they  are  then  poor  and  weak,  and  must 
be  given  grain  and  hay  if  they  are  to  be  worked. 
The  men  in  the  line  camps  need  two  or  three 
apiece,  and  each  man  at  the  home  ranch  has  a 
couple  more;  but  the  rest  are  left  out  to  shift 
for  themselves,  which  the  tough,  hardy  little  fel- 
lows are  well  able  to  do.  Ponies  can  pick  up  a 
living  where  cattle  die;  though  the  scanty  feed, 
which  they  may  have  to  uncover  by  pawing  off 
the  snow,  and  the  bitter  weather  often  make  them 
look  very  gaunt  by  spring-time.  But  the  first 
warm  rains  bring  up  the  green  grass,  and  then 
all  the  live-stock  gain  flesh  with  wonderful  rapid- 
ity. When  the  spring  round-up  begins  the 
horses  should  be  as  fat  and  sleek  as  possible. 
After  running  all  winter  free,  even  the  most 
sober  pony  is  apt  to  betray  an  inclination  to 
buck;  and,  if  possible,  we  like  to  ride  every  ani- 
mal once  or  twice  before  we  begin  to  do  real 
work  with  him. 

Animals  that  have  escaped  for  any  length  of 
time  are  almost  as  bad  to  handle  as  if  they  had 


THE  ROUND-UP  155 

never  been  broken.  One  horse  that  had  been 
gone  for  eighteen  months  has,  since  his  re- 
turn, been  suggestively  dubbed  "Dynamite 
Jimmy,"  on  account  of  the  incessant  and  erup- 
tive energy  with  which  he  bucks.  Many  of  our 
horses,  by  the  way,  are  thus  named  from  some 
feat  or  peculiarity.  Wire  Fence,  when  being 
broken,  ran  into  one  of  the  abominations  after 
which  he  is  now  called;  Hackamore  once  got 
away  and  remained  out  for  three  weeks  with  a 
hackamore,  or  breaking-halter,  on  him;  Macau- 
lay  contracted  the  habit  of  regularly  getting  rid 
of  the  huge  Scotchman  to  whom  he  was  in- 
trusted; Bulberry  Johnny  spent  the  hour  or  two 
after  he  was  first  mounted  in  a  large  patch  of 
thorny  bulberry  bushes,  his  distracted  rider  un- 
able to  get  him  to  do  anything  but  move  round 
sidewise  in  a  circle;  Fall  Back  would  never  get 
to  the  front;  Water  Skip  always  jumps  mud- 
puddles  ;  and  there  are  a  dozen  others  with  names 
as  purely  descriptive. 

The  stock-growers  of  Montana,  of  the  western 
part  of  Dakota,  and  even  of  portions  of  extreme 
northern  Wyoming, — that  is,  of  all  the  grazing 
lands  lying  in  the  basin  of  the  Upper  Missouri, 
— have  united  and  formed  themselves  into  the 
great  Montana  Stock-growers'  Association. 
Among  the  countless  benefits  they  have  derived 


156      STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

from  this  course,  not  the  least  has  been  the  way 
in  which  the  various  round-ups  work  in  with  and 
supplement  one  another.  At  the  spring  meet- 
ing of  the  association,  the  entire  territory  men- 
tioned above,  including  perhaps  a  hundred  thou- 
sand square  miles,  is  mapped  out  into  round-up 
districts,  which  generally  are  changed  but 
slightly  from  year  to  year,  and  the  times  and 
places  for  the  round-ups  to  begin  refixed  so  that 
those  of  adjacent  districts  may  be  run  with  a 
view  to  the  best  interests  of  all. 

The  captain  or  foreman  of  the  round-up,  upon 
whom  very  much  of  its  efficiency  and  success 
depends,  is  chosen  beforehand.  He  is,  of  course, 
an  expert  cowman,  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  country;  and  he  must  also  be  able  to  com- 
mand and  keep  control  of  the  wild  rough-riders 
he  has  under  him — a  feat  needing  both  tact  and 
firmness. 


II.      RIDING  TO  THE  ROUND-UP. 

At  the  appointed  day  all  meet  at  the  place 
from  which  the  round-up  is  to  start.  Each 
ranch,  of  course,  has  most  work  to  be  done  in  its 
own  round-up  district,  but  it  is  also  necessary 
to  have  representatives  in  all  those  surrounding 
it.     A  large  outfit  may  employ  a  dozen  cowboys, 


THE  ROUND-UP  157 

or  over,  in  the  home  district,  and  yet  have  nearly 
as  many  more  representing  its  interests  in  the 
various  ones  adjoining.  Smaller  outfits  gener- 
ally club  together  to  run  a  wagon  and  send  out- 
side representatives,  or  else  go  along  with  their 
stronger  neighbors,  they  paying  part  of  the  ex- 
penses. A  large  outfit,  with  a  herd  of  twenty 
thousand  cattle  or  more,  can,  if  necessary,  run 
a  round-up  entirely  by  itself,  and  is  able  to  act 
independently  of  outside  help;  it  is  therefore  at 
a  great  advantage  compared  with  those  that  can 
take  no  step  effectively  without  their  neighbors' 
consent  and  assistance. 

If  the  starting-point  is  some  distance  off,  it 
may  be  necessary  to  leave  home  three  or  four 
days  in  advance.  Before  this  we  have  got  every- 
thing in  readiness;  have  overhauled  the  wagons, 
shod  any  horse  whose  forefeet  are  tender, — as  a 
rule,  all  our  ponies  go  barefooted, — and  left 
things  in  order  at  the  ranch.  Our  outfit  may  be 
taken  as  a  sample  of  every  one  else's.  We  have 
a  stout  four-horse  wagon  to  carry  the  bedding 
and  the  food;  in  its  rear  a  mess-chest  is  rigged 
to  hold  the  knives,  forks,  cans,  etc.  All  our  four 
team-horses  are  strong,  willing  animals,  though 
of  no  great  size,  being  originally  just  "broncos," 
or  unbroken  native  horses,  like  the  others.  The 
teamster  is  also  cook :  a  man  who  is  a  really  first- 


158      STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

rate  hand  at  both  driving  and  cooking — and  our 
present  teamster  is  both — can  always  command 
his  price.  Besides  our  own  men,  some  cowboys 
from  neighboring  ranches  and  two  or  three  rep- 
resentatives from  other  round-up  districts  are  al- 
ways along,  and  we  generally  have  at  least  a 
dozen  "riders,"  as  they  are  termed, — that  is,  cow- 
boys, or  "cow-punchers,"  who  do  the  actual  cat- 
tle-work,— with  the  wagon.  Each  of  these  has 
a  string  of  eight  or  ten  ponies;  and  to  take 
charge  of  the  saddle-band,  thus  consisting  of  a 
hundred  odd  head,  there  are  two  herders,  always 
known  as  "horse-wranglers" — one  for  the  day 
and  one  for  the  night.  Occasionally  there  will 
be  two  wagons,  one  to  carry  the  bedding  and  one 
the  food,  known,  respectively,  as  the  bed  and  the 
mess  wagon;  but  this  is  not  usual. 

While  traveling  to  the  meeting-point  the  pace 
is  always  slow,  as  it  is  an  object  to  bring  the 
horses  on  the  ground  as  fresh  as  possible.  Ac- 
cordingly we  keep  at  a  walk  almost  all  day,  and 
the  riders,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  assist  the 
wranglers  in  driving  the  saddle-band,  three  or 
four  going  in  front,  and  others  on  the  side,  so 
that  the  horses  shall  keep  on  a  walk.  There  is 
always  some  trouble  with  the  animals  at  the  start- 
ing out,  as  they  are  very  fresh  and  are  restive 
under  the  saddle.     The  herd  is  likely  to  stam- 


THE  ROUND-UP  159 

pede,  and  any  beast  that  is  frisky  or  vicious  is 
sure  to  show  its  worst  side.  To  do  really  effect- 
ive cow-work  a  pony  should  be  well  broken;  but 
many  even  of  the  old  ones  have  vicious  traits, 
and  almost  every  man  will  have  in  his  string  one 
or  two  young  horses,  or  broncos,  hardly  broken 
at  all.  Thanks  to  the  rough  methods  of  break- 
ing in  vogue  on  the  plains  many  even  of  the  so- 
called  broken  animals  retain  always  certain  bad 
habits,  the  most  common  being  that  of  bucking. 
Of  the  sixty  odd  horses  on  my  ranch  all  but  half 
a  dozen  were  broken  by  ourselves;  and  though 
my  men  are  all  good  riders,  yet  a  good  rider  is 
not  necessarily  a  good  horse-breaker,  and  indeed 
it  was  an  absolute  impossibility  properly  to  break 
so  many  animals  in  the  short  time  at  our  com- 
mand— for  we  had  to  use  them  almost  imme- 
diately after  they  were  bought.  In  consequence, 
very  many  of  my  horses  have  to  this  day  traits 
not  likely  to  set  a  timid  or  a  clumsy  rider  at  his 
ease.  One  or  two  can  run  away  and  cannot  be 
held  by  even  the  strongest  bit;  others  can  hardly 
be  bridled  or  saddled  until  they  have  been  thrown ; 
two  or  three  have  a  tendency  to  fall  over  back- 
ward; and  half  of  them  buck  more  or  less,  some 
so  hard  that  only  an  expert  can  sit  them;  several 
I  never  ride  myself,  save  from  dire  necessity. 
In  riding  these  wild,  vicious  horses,  and  in  ca- 


160       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

reering  over  such  very  bad  ground,  especially  at 
night,  accidents  are  always  occurring.  A  man 
who  is  merely  an  ordinary  rider  is  certain  to  have 
a  pretty  hard  time.  On  my  first  round-up  I  had 
a  string  of  nine  horses,  four  of  them  broncos, 
only  broken  to  the  extent  of  having  each  been 
saddled  once  or  twice.  One  of  them  it  was  an 
impossibility  to  bridle  or  to  saddle  single-handed ; 
it  was  very  difficult  to  get  on  or  off  him,  and  he 
was  exceedingly  nervous  if  a  man  moved  his 
hands  or  feet;  but  he  had  no  bad  tricks.  The 
second  soon  became  perfectly  quiet.  The  third 
turned  out  to  be  one  of  the  worst  buckers  on  the 
ranch:  once,  when  he  bucked  me  off,  I  managed 
to  fall  on  a  stone  and  broke  a  rib.  The  fourth 
had  a  still  worse  habit,  for  he  would  balk  and 
then  throw  himself  over  backward:  once,  when 
I  was  not  quick  enough,  he  caught  me  and  broke 
something  in  the  point  of  my  shoulder,  so  that 
it  was  some  weeks  before  I  could  raise  my  arm 
freely.  My  hurts  were  far  from  serious,  and 
did  not  interfere  with  my  riding  and  working  as 
usual  through  the  round-up;  but  I  was  heartily 
glad  when  it  ended,  and  ever  since  have  reli- 
giously done  my  best  to  get  none  but  gentle  horses 
in  my  own  string.  However,  every  one  gets 
falls  from  or  with  his  horse  now  and  then  in  the 
cow  country;   and  even  my  men,   good   riders 


THE  ROUND-UP  161 

though  they  are,  are  sometimes  injured.  One  of 
them  once  broke  his  ankle;  another  a  rib;  an- 
other was  on  one  occasion  stunned,  remaining 
unconscious  for  some  hours ;  and  yet  another  had 
certain  of  his  horses  buck  under  him  so  hard  and 
long  as  finally  to  hurt  his  lungs  and  make  him 
cough  blood.  Fatal  accidents  occur  annually  in 
almost  every  district,  especially  if  there  is  much 
work  to  be  done  among  stampeded  cattle  at 
night;  but  on  my  own  ranch  none  of  my  men 
have  ever  been  seriously  hurt,  though  on  one  oc- 
casion a  cowboy  from  another  ranch,  who  was 
with  my  wagon,  was  killed,  his  horse  falling  and 
pitching  him  heavily  on  his  head. 

For  bedding,  each  man  has  two  or  three  pairs 
of  blankets,  and  a  tarpaulin  or  small  wagon- 
sheet.  Usually,  two  or  three  sleep  together. 
Even  in  June  the  nights  are  generally  cool  and 
pleasant,  and  it  is  chilly  in  the  early  mornings; 
although  this  is  not  always  so,  and  when  the 
weather  stays  hot  and  mosquitoes  are  plenty,  the 
hours  of  darkness,  even  in  midsummer,  seem 
painfully  long.  In  the  Bad  Lands  proper  we 
are  not  often  bothered  very  seriously  by  these 
winged  pests ;  but  in  the  low  bottoms  of  the  Big 
Missouri,  and  beside  many  of  the  reedy  ponds 
and  great  sloughs  out  on  the  prairie,  they  are  a 
perfect  scourge.     During  the  very  hot  nights, 


162       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

when  they  are  especially  active,  the  bed-clothes 
make  a  man  feel  absolutely  smothered,  and  yet 
his  only  chance  for  sleep  is  to  wrap  himself 
tightly  up,  head  and  all;  and  even  then  some  of 
the  pests  will  usually  force  their  way  in.  At 
sunset  I  have  seen  the  mosquitoes  rise  up  from 
the  land  like  a  dense  cloud,  to  make  the  hot, 
stifling  night  one  long  torture;  the  horses  would 
neither  lie  down  nor  graze,  traveling  restlessly 
to  and  fro  till  daybreak,  their  bodies  streaked 
and  bloody,  and  the  insects  settling  on  them  so 
as  to  make  them  all  one  color,  a  uniform  gray; 
while  the  men,  after  a  few  hours'  tossing  about 
in  the  vain  attempt  to  sleep,  rose,  built  a  little 
fire  of  damp  sage  brush,  and  thus  endured  the 
misery  as  best  they  could  until  it  was  light 
enough  to  work. 

But  if  the  weather  is  fine,  a  man  will  never 
sleep  better  nor  more  pleasantly  than  in  the  open 
air  after  a  hard  day's  work  on  the  round-up; 
nor  will  an  ordinary  shower  or  gust  of  wind  dis- 
turb him  in  the  least,  for  he  simply  draws  the 
tarpaulin  over  his  head  and  goes  on  sleeping. 
But  now  and  then  we  have  a  wind-storm  that 
might  better  be  called  a  whirl-wind  and  has  to 
be  met  very  differently;  and  two  or  three  days 
or  nights  of  rain  insure  the  wetting  of  the 
blankets,  and  therefore  shivering  discomfort  on 


THE  ROUND-UP  163 

the  part  of  the  would-be  sleeper.  For  two  or 
three  hours  all  goes  well ;  and  it  is  rather  soothing 
to  listen  to  the  steady  patter  of  the  great  rain- 
drops on  the  canvas.  But  then  it  will  be  found 
that  a  corner  has  been  left  open  through  which 
the  water  can  get  in,  or  else  the  tarpaulin  will 
begin  to  leak  somewhere;  or  perhaps  the  water 
will  have  collected  in  a  hollow  underneath  and 
have  begun  to  soak  through.  Soon  a  little 
stream  trickles  in,  and  every  effort  to  remedy 
matters  merely  results  in  a  change  for  the  worse. 
To  move  out  of  the  way  insures  getting  wet  in  a 
fresh  spot;  and  the  best  course  is  to  lie  still  and 
accept  the  evils  that  have  come  with  what  forti- 
tude one  can.  Even  thus,  the  first  night  a  man 
can  sleep  pretty  well;  but  if  the  rain  continues, 
the  second  night,  when  the  blankets  are  already 
damp,  and  when  the  water  comes  through  more 
easily,  is  apt  to  be  most  unpleasant. 

Of  course,  a  man  can  take  little  spare  clothing 
on  a  round-up;  at  the  very  outside  two  or  three 
clean  handkerchiefs,  a  pair  of  socks,  a  change 
of  underclothes,  and  the  most  primitive  kind  of 
washing-apparatus,  all  wrapped  up  in  a  stout 
jacket  which  is  to  be  worn  when  night-herding. 
The  inevitable  "slicker,"  or  oil-skin  coat,  which 
gives  complete  protection  from  the  wet,  is  al- 
ways carried  behind  the  saddle. 


164*   STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

III.      THE  ENCAMPMENT. 

At  the  meeting-place  there  is  usually  a  delay 
of  a  day  or  two  to  let  every  one  come  in;  and 
the  plain  on  which  the  encampment  is  made  be- 
comes a  scene  of  great  bustle  and  turmoil.  The 
heavy  four-horse  wagons  jolt  in  from  different 
quarters,  the  horse-wranglers  rushing  madly  to 
and  fro  in  the  endeavor  to  keep  the  different  sad- 
dle-bands from  mingling,  while  the  "riders,"  or 
cowboys,  with  each  wagon  jog  along  in  a  body. 
The  representatives  from  outside  districts  ride 
in  singly  or  by  twos  and  threes,  every  man  driv- 
ing before  him  his  own  horses,  one  of  them 
loaded  with  his  bedding.  Each  wagon  wheels 
out  of  the  way  into  some  camping-place  not  too 
near  the  others,  the  bedding  is  tossed  out  on  the 
ground,  and  then  every  one  is  left  to  do  what 
he  wishes,  while  the  different  wagon  bosses,  or 
foremen,  seek  out  the  captain  of  the  round-up 
to  learn  what  his  plans  are. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  rough  but  effective 
discipline  and  method  in  the  way  in  which  a 
round-up  is  carried  on.  The  captain  of  the 
whole  has  as  lieutenants  the  various  wagon  fore- 
men, and  in  making  demands  for  men  to  do  some 
special  service  he  will  usually  merely  designate 
some  foreman  to  take  charge  of  the  work  and 


THE  ROUND-UP  165 

let  him  parcel  it  out  among  his  men  to  suit  him- 
self. The  captain  of  the  round-up  or  the  fore- 
man of  a  wagon  may  himself  be  a  ranchman; 
if  such  is  not  the  case,  and  the  ranchman  never- 
theless comes  along,  he  works  and  fares  precisely 
as  do  the  other  cowboys. 

While  the  head  men  are  gathered  in  a  little 
knot,  planning  out  the  work,  the  others  are  dis- 
persed over  the  plain  in  every  direction,  racing, 
breaking  rough  horses,  or  simply  larking  with 
one  another.  If  a  man  has  an  especially  bad 
horse,  he  usually  takes  such  an  opportunity,  when 
he  has  plenty  of  time,  to  ride  him;  and  while 
saddling  he  is  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  most 
unsympathetic  associates  who  greet  with  uproar- 
ious mirth  any  misadventure.  A  man  on  a  buck- 
ing horse  is  alwaj^s  considered  fair  game,  every 
squeal  and  jump  of  the  bronco  being  hailed  with 
cheers  of  delighted  irony  for  the  rider  and  shouts 
to  "stay  with  him."  The  antics  of  a  vicious 
bronco  show  infinite  variety  of  detail,  but  are 
all  modeled  on  one  general  plan.  When  the 
rope  settles  round  his  neck  the  fight  begins,  and 
it  is  only  after  much  plunging  and  snorting  that 
a  twist  is  taken  over  his  nose,  or  else  a  hackamore 
— a  species  of  severe  halter,  usually  made  of 
plaited  hair — slipped  on  his  head.     While  being 

bridled  he  strikes  viciously  with  his  fore  feet,  and 
10 


166       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

perhaps  has  to  be  blindfolded  or  thrown  down; 
and  to  get  the  saddle  on  him  is  quite  as  diffi- 
cult. When  saddled,  he  may  get  rid  of  his  ex- 
uberant spirits  by  bucking  under  the  saddle,  or 
may  reserve  all  his  energies  for  the  rider.  In 
the  last  case,  the  man  keeping  tight  hold  with 
his  left  hand  of  the  cheek-strap,  so  as  to  prevent 
the  horse  from  getting  his  head  down  until  he  is 
fairly  seated,  swings  himself  quickly  into  the  sad- 
dle. Up  rises  the  bronco's  back  into  an  arch; 
his  head,  the  ears  laid  straight  back,  goes  down 
between  his  forefeet,  and,  squealing  savagely, 
he  makes  a  succession  of  rapid,  stiff-legged,  jar- 
ring bounds.  Sometimes  he  is  a  "plunging" 
bucker,  who  runs  forward  all  the  time  while 
bucking;  or  he  may  buck  steadily  in  one  place, 
or  "sun-fish" — that  is,  bring  first  one  shoulder 
down  almost  to  the  ground  and  then  the  other, — 
or  else  he  may  change  ends  while  in  the  air.  A 
first-class  rider  will  sit  throughout  it  all  without 
moving  from  the  saddle,  quirting  1  his  horse  all 
the  time,  though  his  hat  may  be  jarred  off  his 
head  and  his  revolver  out  of  its  sheath.  After 
a  few  jumps,  however,  the  average  man  grasps 
hold  of  the  horn  of  the  saddle — the  delighted  on- 
lookers meanwhile  earnestly  advising  him  not  to 

i  Quirt    is    the    name    of    the    short    flexible    riding-whip    used 
throughout  cowboy  land.     The  term  is  a  Spanish  one. 


THE  ROUND-UP  167 

"go  to  leather" — and  is  contented  to  get  through 
the  affair  in  any  shape  provided  he  can  escape 
without  being  thrown  off.  An  accident  is  of  ne- 
cessity borne  with  a  broad  grin,  as  any  attempt 
to  resent  the  raillery  of  the  bystanders — which 
is  perfectly  good-humored — would  be  apt  to  re- 
sult disastrously. 

On  such  a  day,  when  there  is  no  regular  work, 
there  will  often  also  be  horse-races,  as  each  out- 
fit is  pretty  sure  to  have  some  running  pony 
which  it  believes  can  outpace  any  other.  These 
contests  are  always  short-distance  dashes,  for  but 
a  few  hundred  yards.  Horse-racing  is  a  mania 
with  most  plainsmen,  white  or  red.  A  man  with 
a  good  racing  pony  will  travel  all  about  with  it, 
often  winning  large  sums,  visiting  alike  cow 
ranches,  frontier  towns  and  Indian  encampments. 
Sometimes  the  race  is  "pony  against  pony,"  the 
victor  taking  both  steeds.  In  racing  the  men 
ride  bareback,  as  there  are  hardly  any  light  sad- 
dles in  the  cow  country.  There  will  be  intense 
excitement  and  very  heavy  betting  over  a  race 
between  two  wrell-known  horses,  together  with  a 
good  chance  of  blood  being  shed  in  the  attendant 
quarrels.  Indians  and  whites  often  race  against 
each  other  as  well  as  among  themselves.  I  have 
seen  several  such  contests,  and  in  every  case  but 
one  the  white  man  happened  to  win.     A  race  is 


168       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

usually  run  between  two  thick  rows  of  spectators, 
on  foot  and  on  horseback,  and  as  the  racers  pass, 
these  rows  close  in  behind  them,  every  man  yell- 
ing and  shouting  with  all  the  strength  of  his 
lungs,  and  all  waving  their  hats  and  cloaks  to 
encourage  the  contestants,  or  firing  off  their  re- 
volvers and  saddle  guns.  The  little  horses  are 
fairly  maddened,  as  is  natural  enough,  and  run 
as  if  they  were  crazy:  were  the  distances  longer 
some  would  be  sure  to  drop  in  their  tracks. 

Besides  the  horse-races,  which  are,  of  course, 
the  main  attraction,  the  men  at  a  round-up  will 
often  get  up  wrestling  matches  or  foot-races. 
In  fact,  every  one  feels  that  he  is  off  for  a  holi- 
day; for  after  the  monotony  of  a  long  winter 
the  cowboys  look  forward  eagerly  to  the  round- 
up, where  the  work  is  hard,  it  is  true,  but  excit- 
ing and  varied,  and  treated  a  good  deal  as  a 
frolic.  There  is  no  eight -hour  law  in  cowboy 
land:  during  round-up  time  we  often  count  our- 
selves lucky  if  we  get  off  with  much  less  than 
sixteen  hours ;  but  the  work  is  done  in  the  saddle, 
and  the  men  are  spurred  on  all  the  time  by  the 
desire  to  outdo  one  another  in  feats  of  daring  and 
skillful  horsemanship.  There  is  very  little  quar- 
reling or  fighting;  and  though  the  fun  often 
takes  the  form  of  rather  rough  horse-play,  yet 
the    practice    of    carrying    dangerous    weapons 


THE  ROUND-UP  169 

makes  cowboys  show  far  more  rough  courtesy  to 
each  other  and  far  less  rudeness  to  strangers  than 
is  the  case  among,  for  instance,  Eastern  miners, 
or  even  lumbermen.  When  a  quarrel  may  very 
probably  result  fatally  a  man  thinks  twice  before 
going  into  it:  warlike  people  or  classes  always 
treat  one  another  with  a  certain  amount  of  con- 
sideration and  politeness.  The  moral  tone  of  a 
cow-camp,  indeed,  is  rather  high  than  otherwise. 
Meanness,  cowardice  and  dishonesty  are  not  tol- 
erated. There  is  a  high  regard  for  truthfulness 
and  keeping  one's  word,  intense  contempt  for 
any  kind  of  hypocrisy,  and  a  hearty  dislike  for  a 
man  who  shirks  his  work. 


IV.      THE  WORK  OF  ROUNDING-TJP. 

The  method  of  work  is  simple.  The  mess- 
wagons  and  loose  horses,  after  breaking  camp  in 
the  morning,  move  on  in  a*straight  line  for  some 
few  miles,  going  into  camp  again  before  midday ; 
and  the  day  herd,  consisting  of  all  the  cattle  that 
have  been  found  far  off  their  range,  and  which 
are  to  be  brought  back  there,  and  of  any  others 
that  it  is  necessary  to  gather,  follows  on  after- 
wards. Meanwhile  the  cowboys  scatter  out  and 
drive  in  all  the  cattle  from  the  country  round 
about,  going  perhaps  ten  or  fifteen  miles  back 


170       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

from  the  line  of  march,  and  meeting  at  the  place 
where  camp  has  already  been  pitched.  The  wag- 
ons always  keep  some  little  distance  from  one  an- 
other, and  the  saddle-bands  do  the  same,  so  that 
the  horses  may  not  get  mixed.  It  is  rather  pic- 
turesque to  see  the  four-horse  teams  filing  down 
at  a  trot  through  a  pass  among  the  buttes — the 
saddle-bands  being  driven  along  at  a  smart  pace 
to  one  side  or  behind,  the  teamsters  cracking 
their  whips  and  the  horse-wranglers  calling  and 
shouting  as  they  ride  rapidly  from  side  to  side 
behind  the  horses,  urging  on  the  stragglers  by 
dexterous  touches  with  the  knotted  ends  of  their 
long  lariats  that  are  left  trailing  from  the  sad- 
dle. The  country  driven  over  is  very  rough  and 
it  is  often  necessary  to  double  up  teams  and  put 
on  eight  horses  to  each  wagon  in  going  up  an 
unusually  steep  pitch  or  hauling  through  a  deep 
mud-hole  or  over  a  river  crossing  where  there  is 
quicksand. 

The  speed  and  thoroughness  with  which  a 
country  can  be  worked  depends,  of  course,  very 
largely  upon  the  number  of  riders.  Ours  is 
probably  about  an  average  round-up  as  regards 
size.  The  last  spring  I  was  out  there  were  half 
a  dozen  wagons  along;  the  saddle-bands  num- 
bered about  a  hundred  each ;  and  the  morning  we 
started,  sixty  men  in  the  saddle  splashed  across 


: 


H 
•s 

p 

3 

crq 
o 


« 


THE  ROUND-UP  173 

the  shallow  ford  of  the  river  that  divided  the 
plain  where  we  had  camped  from  the  valley  of 
the  long  winding  creek  up  which  we  were  first  to 
work. 

(In  the  morning  the  cook  is  preparing  breakfast 
long  before  the  first  glimmer  of  dawn.  As  soon 
as  it  is  ready,  probably  about  3  o'clock,  he  utters 
a  long-drawn  shout,  and  all  the  sleepers  feel  it  is 
time  to  be  up  on  the  instant,  for  they  know  there 
can  be  no  such  thing  as  delay  on  the  round-up, 
under  penalty  of  being  set  afoot.  Accordingly, 
they  bundle  out,  rubbing  their  eyes  and  yawn- 
ing, draw  on  their  boots  and  trousers, — if  they 
have  taken  the  latter  off, — roll  up  and  cord  their 
bedding,  and  usually  without  any  attempt  at 
washing  crowd  over  to  the  little  smoldering  fire, 
which  is  placed  in  a  hole  dug  in  the  ground,  so 
that  there  may  be  no  risk  of  its  spreading.  The 
men  are  rarely  very  hungry  at  breakfast,  and  it 
is  a  meal  that  has  to  be  eaten  in  shortest  order,  so 
it  is  perhaps  the  least  important.  Each  man,  as 
he  comes  up,  grasps  a  tin  cup  and  plate  from 
the  mess-box,  pours  out  his  tea  or  coffee,  with 
sugar,  but,  of  course,  no  milk,  helps  himself  to 
one  or  two  of  the  biscuits  that  have  been  baked 
in  a  Dutch  oven,  and  perhaps  also  to  a  slice  of  the 
fat  pork  swimming  in  the  grease  of  the  frying- 
pan,  ladles  himself  out  some  beans,  if  there  are 


174       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

any,  and  squats  down  on  the  ground  to  eat  his 
breakfast.  The  meal  is  not  an  elaborate  one; 
nevertheless  a  man  will  have  to  hurry  if  he  wishes 
to  eat  it  before  hearing  the  foreman  sing  out, 
"Come,  boys,  catch  your  horses";  when  he  must 
drop  everything  and  run  out  to  the  wagon  with 
his  lariat.  The  night  wrangler  is  now  bringing 
in  the  saddle-band,  which  he  has  been  up  all  night 
guarding.  A  rope  corral  is  rigged  up  by 
stretching  a  rope  from  each  wheel  of  one  side  of 
the  wagon,  making  a  V-shaped  space,  into  which 
the  saddle-horses  are  driven.  Certain  men  stand 
around  to  keep  them  inside,  while  the  others 
catch  the  horses :  many  outfits  have  one  man  to  do 
all  the  roping.  As  soon  as  each  has  caught  his 
horse — usually  a  strong,  tough  animal,  the  small, 
quick  ponies  being  reserved  for  the  work  round 
the  herd  in  the  afternoon — the  band,  now  in 
charge  of  the  day  wrangler,  is  turned  loose,  and 
every  one  saddles  up  as  fast  as  possible.  It  still 
lacks  some  time  of  being  sunrise,  and  the  air  has 
in  it  the  peculiar  chill  of  the  early  morning. 
When  all  are  saddled,  many  of  the  horses  buck- 
ing and  dancing  about,  the  riders  from  the  dif- 
ferent wagons  all  assemble  at  the  one  where  the 
captain  is  sitting,  already  mounted.  He  waits  a 
very  short  time — for  laggards  receive  but  scant 
mercy — before  announcing  the  proposed  camp- 


THE  ROUND-UP  175 

ing-place  and  parceling  out  the  work  among 
those  present.  If,  as  is  usually  the  case,  the  line 
of  march  is  along  a  river  or  creek,  he  appoints 
some  man  to  take  a  dozen  others  and  drive  down 
(or  up)  it  ahead  of  the  day  herd,  so  that  the  lat- 
ter will  not  have  to  travel  through  other  cattle; 
the  day  herd  itself  being  driven  and  guarded  by 
a  dozen  men  detached  for  that  purpose.  The 
rest  of  the  riders  are  divided  into  two  bands, 
placed  under  men  who  know  the  country,  and 
start  out,  one  on  each  side,  to  bring  in  every 
head  for  fifteen  miles  back.  The  captain  then 
himself  rides  down  to  the  new  camping-place,  so 
as  to  be  there  as  soon  as  any  cattle  are  brought  in. 
Meanwhile  the  two  bands,  a  score  of  riders  in 
each,  separate  and  make  their  way  in  opposite 
directions.  The  leader  of  each  tries  to  get  such 
a  "scatter"  on  his  men  that  they  will  cover  com- 
pletely all  the  land  gone  over.  This  morning 
work  is  called  circle  riding,  and  is  peculiarly  hard 
in  the  Bad  Lands  on  account  of  the  remarkably 
broken,  rugged  nature  of  the  country.  The 
men  come  in  on  lines  that  tend  to  a  common  cen- 
ter— as  if  the  sticks  of  a  fan  were  curved.  As 
the  band  goes  out,  the  leader  from  time  to  time 
detaches  one  or  two  men  to  ride  down  through 
certain  sections  of  the  country,  making  the 
shorter,  or  what  are  called  inside,  circles,  while  he 


176       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

keeps  on;  and  finally,  retaining  as  companions 
the  two  or  three  whose  horses  are  toughest,  makes 
the  longest  or  outside  circle  himself,  going  clear 
back  to  the  divide,  or  whatever  the  point  may  be 
that  marks  the  limit  of  the  round-up  work,  and 
then  turning  and  working  straight  to  the  meet- 
ing-place. Each  man,  of  course,  brings  in  every 
head  of  cattle  he  can  see. 

These  long,  swift  rides  in  the  glorious  spring 
mornings  are  not  soon  to  be  forgotten.  The 
sweet,  fresh  air,  with  a  touch  of  sharpness  thus 
early  in  the  day,  and  the  rapid  motion  of  the  fiery 
little  horse  combine  to  make  a  man's  blood  thrill 
and  leap  with  sheer  buoyant  light-heartedness 
and  eager,  exultant  pleasure  in  the  boldness  and 
freedom  of  the  life  he  is  leading.  As  we  climb 
the  steep  sides  of  the  first  range  of  buttes,  wisps 
of  wavering  mist  still  cling  in  the  hollows  of  the 
valley ;  when  we  come  out  on  the  top  of  the  first 
great  plateau  the  sun  flames  up  over  its  edge, 
and  in  the  level,  red  beams  the  galloping  horse- 
men throw  long  fantastic  shadows.  Black  care 
rarely  sits  behind  a  rider  whose  pace  is  fast 
enough;  at  any  rate,  not  when  he  first  feels  the 
horse  move  under  him. 

Sometimes  we  trot  or  pace,  and  again  we  lope 
or  gallop;  the  few  who  are  to  take  the  outside 
circle  must  needs  ride  both  hard  and  fast.     Al- 


THE  ROUND-UP  177 

though  only  grass-fed,  the  horses  are  tough  and 
wiry;  and,  moreover,  are  each  used  but  once  in 
four  days,  or  thereabouts,  so  they  stand  the  work 
well.  The  course  out  lies  across  great  grassy 
plateaus,  along  knifelike  ridge  crests,  among 
winding  valleys  and  ravines,  and  over  acres  of 
barren,  sun-scorched  buttes,  that  look  grimly 
grotesque  and  forbidding,  while  in  the  Bad 
Lands  the  riders  unhesitatingly  go  down  and 
over  places  where  it  seems  impossible  that  a  horse 
should  even  stand.  The  line  of  horsemen  will 
quarter  down  the  side  of  a  butte,  where  every 
pony  has  to  drop  from  ledge  to  ledge  like  a  goat, 
and  will  go  over  the  shoulder  of  a  soapstone  cliff, 
when  wet  and  slippery,  with  a  series  of  plunges 
and  scrambles  which  if  unsuccessful  would  land 
horses  and  riders  in  the  bottom  of  the  canon-like 
washout  below.  In  descending  a  clay  butte  after 
a  rain,  the  pony  will  put  all  four  feet  together 
and  slide  down  to  the  bottom  almost  or  quite  on 
his  haunches.  In  very  wet  weather  the  Bad 
Lands  are  absolutely  impassable;  but  if  the 
ground  is  not  slippery,  it  is  a  remarkable  place 
that  can  shake  the  matter-of-course  confidence 
felt  by  the  rider  in  the  capacity  of  his  steed  to  go 
anywhere. 

When   the   men   on   the   outside   circle   have 
reached  the  bound  set  them, — whether  it  is  a  low 


178       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

divide,  a  group  of  jagged  hills,  the  edge  of  the 
rolling,  limitless  prairie,  or  the  long,  waste 
reaches  of  alkali  and  sage  brush, — they  turn  their 
horses'  heads  and  begin  to  work  down  the 
branches  of  the  creeks,  one  or  two  riding  down 
the  bottom,  while  the  others  keep  off  to  the  right 
and  the  left,  a  little  ahead  and  fairly  high  up  on 
the  side  hills,  so  as  to  command  as  much  of  a  view 
as  possible.  On  the  level  or  rolling  prairies  the 
cattle  can  be  seen  a  long  way  off,  and  it  is  an 
easy  matter  to  gather  and  to  drive  them;  but  in 
the  Bad  Lands  every  little  pocket,  basin  and 
coulee  has  to  be  searched,  every  gorge  or  ravine 
entered  and  the  dense  patches  of  brushwood  and 
spindling,  wind-beaten  trees  closely  examined. 
All  the  cattle  are  carried  on  ahead  down  the 
creek ;  and  it  is  curious  to  watch  the  different  be- 
havior of  the  different  breeds.  A  cowboy  riding 
off  to  one  side  of  the  creek,  and  seeing  a  number 
of  long-horned  Texans  grazing  in  the  branches 
of  a  set  of  coulees,  has  merely  to  ride  across  the 
upper  ends  of  these,  uttering  the  drawn-out  "ei- 
koh-h-h,"  so  familiar  to  the  cattle-men,  and  the 
long-horns  will  stop  grazing,  stare  fixedly  at  him, 
and  then,  wheeling,  strike  off  down  the  coulees 
at  a  trot,  tails  in  air,  to  be  carried  along  by  the 
center  riders  when  they  reach  the  main  creek  into 
which  the  coulees  lead.     Our  own  range  cattle 


THE  ROUND-UP  179 

are  not  so  wild,  but  nevertheless  are  easy  to  drive ; 
while  Eastern-raised  beasts  have  little  fear  of  a 
horseman  and  merely  stare  stupidly  at  him  until 
he  rides  directly  towards  them.  Every  little 
bunch  of  stock  is  thus  collected  and  all  are  driven 
along  together.  At  the  place  wThere  some  large 
fork  joins  the  main  creek  another  band  may  be 
met,  driven  by  some  of  the  men  who  have  left 
earlier  in  the  day  to  take  one  of  the  shorter  cir- 
cles; and  thus,  before  coming  down  to  the  bot- 
tom where  the  wagons  are  camped  and  where  the 
actual  "round-up"  itself  is  to  take  place,  this  one 
herd  may  include  a  couple  of  thousand  head ;  or, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  longest  ride  may  not  result 
in. the  finding  of  a  dozen  animals.  As  soon  as 
the  riders  are  in,  they  disperse  to  their  respective 
wagons  to  get  dinner  and  change  horses,  leaving 
the  cattle  to  be  held  by  one  or  two  of  their  num- 
ber. If  only  a  small  number  of  cattle  have  been 
gathered,  they  will  all  be  run  into  one  herd;  if 
there  are  many  of  them,  however,  the  different 
herds  will  be  held  separate. 

A  plain  where  a  round-up  is  taking  place  offers 
a  picturesque  sight.  I  well  remember  one  such. 
It  was  on  a  level  bottom  in  a  bend  of  the  river, 
which  here  made  an  almost  semicircular  sweep. 
The  bottom  was  in  shape  of  a  long  oval,  hemmed 
in  by  an  unbroken  line  of  steep  bluffs  so  that 


180        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

it  looked  like  an  amphitheater.  Across  the  faces 
of  the  dazzling  white  cliffs  there  were  sharp 
bands  of  black  and  red,  drawn  by  the  coal  seams 
and  the  layers  of  burned  clay:  the  leaves  of  the 
trees  and  the  grass  had  the  vivid  green  of  spring- 
time. The  wagons  were  camped  among  the  Cot- 
tonwood trees  fringing  the  river,  a  thin  column 
of  smoke  rising  up  from  beside  each.  The 
horses  were  grazing  round  the  outskirts,  those  of 
each  wagon  by  themselves  and  kept  from  going 
too  near  the  others  by  their  watchful  guard.  In 
the  great  circular  corral,  towards  one  end,  the 
men  were  already  branding  calves,  while  the 
whole  middle  of  the  bottom  was  covered  with  low- 
ing herds  of  cattle  and  shouting,  galloping  cow- 
boys. Apparently  there  was  nothing  but  dust, 
noise  and  confusion;  but  in  reality  the  work  was 
proceeding  all  the  while  with  the  utmost  rapidity 
and  certainty. 

As  soon  as,  or  even  before,  the  last  circle  riders 
have  come  in  and  have  snatched  a  few  hastv 
mouthfuls  to  serve  as  their  midday  meal,  we  be- 
gin to  work  the  herd — or  herds,  if  the  one  herd 
would  be  of  too  unwieldy  size.  The  animals  are 
held  in  a  compact  bunch,  most  of  the  riders  form- 
ing a  ring  outside,  while  a  couple  from  each 
ranch  successively  look  the  herds  through  and  cut 
out  those  marked  with  their  own  brand.     It  is 


THE  ROUND-UP  181 

difficult,  in  such  a  mass  of  moving  beasts, — for 
they  do  not  stay  still,  but  keep  weaving  in  and 
out  among  each  other, — to  find  all  of  one's  own 
animals:  a  man  must  have  natural  gifts,  as  well 
as  great  experience,  before  he  becomes  a  good 
brand-reader  and  is  able  really  to  "clean  up  a 
herd" — that  is,  be  sure  he  has  left  nothing  of  his 
own  in  it. 

To  do  good  work  in  cutting  out  from  a  herd, 
not  only  should  the  rider  be  a  good  horseman, 
but  he  should  also  have  a  skillful,  thoroughly 
trained  horse.  A  good  cutting  pony  is  not  com- 
mon and  is  generally  too  valuable  to  be  used  any- 
where but  in  the  herd.  Such  an  one  enters  thor- 
oughly into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  and  finds  out 
immediately  the  animal  his  master  is  after;  he 
will  then  follow  it  closely  of  his  own  accord 
through  every  wheel  and  double  at  top  speed. 
When  looking  through  the  herd  it  is  necessary 
to  move  slowly;  and  when  any  animal  is  found  it 
is  taken  to  the  outskirts  at  a  walk,  so  as  not  to 
alarm  the  others.  Once  at  the  outside,  however, 
the  cowboy  has  to  ride  like  lightning ;  for  as  soon 
as  the  beast  he  is  after  finds  itself  separated  from 
its  companions  it  endeavors  to  break  back  among 
them,  and  a  young,  range-raised  steer  or  heifer 
runs  like  a  deer.  In  cutting  out  a  cow  and  a  calf 
two  men  have  to  work  together.     As  the  animals 


182        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

of  a  brand  are  cut  out  they  are  received  and  held 
apart  by  some  rider  detailed  for  the  purpose,  who 
is  said  to  be  "holding  the  cut." 

All  this  time  the  men  holding  the  herd  have 
their  hands  full,  for  some  animal  is  continuallv 
trying  to  break  out,  when  the  nearest  man  flies 
at  it  at  once  and  after  a  smart  chase  brings  it 
back  to  its  fellows.  As  soon  as  all  the  cows, 
calves  and  whatever  else  is  being  gathered  have 
been  cut  out,  the  rest  are  driven  clear  off  the 
ground  and  turned  loose,  being  headed  in  the 
direction  contrary  to  that  in  which  we  travel  the 
following  day.  Then  the  riders  surround  the 
next  herd,  the  men  holding  cuts  move  them  up 
near  it  and  the  work  is  begun  anew. 

If  it  is  necessary  to  throw  an  animal,  either 
to  examine  a  brand  or  for  any  other  reason,  half 
a  dozen  men  will  have  their  ropes  down  at  once; 
and  then  it  is  spur  and  quirt  in  the  rivalry  to  see 
which  can  outdo  the  other  until  the  beast  is  roped 
and  thrown.  A  first-class  hand  will,  unaided, 
rope,  throw  and  tie  down  a  cow  or  steer  in  won- 
derfully short  time;  one  of  the  favorite  tests  of 
competitive  skill  among  the  cowboys  is  the  speed 
with  which  this  feat  can  be  accomplished.  Usu- 
ally, however,  one  man  ropes  the  animal  by  the 
head  and  another  at  the  same  time  gets  the  loop 
of  his  lariat  over  one  or  both  its  hind  legs,  when 


THE  ROUND-UP  183 

it  is  twisted  over  and  stretched  out  in  a  second. 
In  following  an  animal  on  horseback  the  man 
keeps  steadily  swinging  the  rope  round  his  head, 
by  a  dexterous  motion  of  the  wrist  only,  until  he 
gets  a  chance  to  throw  it;  when  on  foot,  espe- 
cially if  catching  horses  in  a  corral,  the  loop  is 
allowed  to  drag  loosely  on  the  ground.  A  good 
roper  will  hurl  out  the  coil  with  marvelous  ac- 
curacy and  force;  it  fairly  whistles  through  the 
air,  and  settles  round  the  object  with  almost  in- 
fallible certainty.  Mexicans  make  the  best  rop- 
ers ;  but  some  Texans  are  very  little  behind  them. 
A  good  horse  takes  as  much  interest  in  the  work 
as  does  his  rider,  and  the  instant  the  noose  settles 
over  the  victim  wheels  and  braces  himself  to  meet 
the  shock,  standing  with  his  legs  firmly  planted, 
the  steer  or  cow  being  thrown  with  a  jerk.  An 
unskillful  rider  and  untrained  horse  will  often 
themselves  be  thrown  when  the  strain  comes. 

Sometimes  an  animal — usually  a  cow  or  steer, 
but,  strangely  enough,  very  rarely  a  bull — will 
get  fighting  mad  and  turn  on  the  men.  If  on 
the  drive,  such  a  beast  usually  is  simply  dropped 
out;  but  if  they  have  time  nothing  delights  the 
cowboys  more  than  an  encounter  of  this  sort, 
and  the  charging  brute  is  roped  and  tied  down 
in  short  order.     Often  such  an  one  will  make  a 

very  vicious  fight  and  is  most  dangerous.     Once 
11 


184       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

a  fighting  cow  kept  several  of  us  busy  for  nearly 
an  hour;  she  gored  two  ponies,  one  of  them, 
which  was,  luckily,  hurt  but  slightly,  being  my 
own  pet  cutting  horse.  If  a  steer  is  hauled  out 
of  a  mud-hole  its  first  act  is  usually  to  charge 
the  rescuer. 


V.       BRANDING  AND   HERDING. 

As  soon  as  all  the  brands  of  cattle  are  worked 
and  the  animals  that  are  to  be  driven  along  have 
been  put  in  the  day  herd,  attention  is  turned  to 
the  cows  and  calves,  which  are  already  gathered 
in  different  bands,  consisting  each  of  all  the  cows 
of  a  certain  brand  and  all  the  calves  that  are  fol- 
lowing them.  If  there  is  a  corral,  each  band  is 
in  turn  driven  into  it ;  if  there  is  none,  a  ring  of 
riders  does  duty  in  its  place.  A  fire  is  built,  the 
irons  heated  and  a  dozen  men  dismount  to,  as  it 
is  called,  "wrestle"  the  calves.  The  best  two 
ropers  go  in  on  their  horses  to  catch  the  latter; 
one  man  keeps  tally,  a  couple  put  on  the  brands 
and  the  others  seize,  throw  and  hold  the  little  un- 
fortunates. A  first-class  roper  invariably 
catches  the  calf  by  both  hind  feet,  and  then,  hav- 
ing taken  a  twist  with  his  lariat  round  the  horn 
of  the  saddle,  drags  the  bawling  little  creature, 
extended  at  full-length,  up  to  the  fire,  where  it  is 


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THE  ROUND-UP  187 

held  before  it  can  make  a  struggle.  A  less  skill- 
ful roper  catches  round  the  neck,  and  then,  if  the 
calf  is  a  large  one,  the  man  who  seizes  it  has  his 
hands  full,  as  the  bleating,  bucking  animal  de- 
velops astonishing  strength,  cuts  the  wildest  ca- 
pers and  resists  frantically  and  with  all  its 
power.  If  there  are  seventy  or  eighty  calves  in 
a  corral  the  scene  is  one  of  the  greatest  confu- 
sion. The  ropers,  spurring  and  checking  the 
fierce  little  horses,  drag  the  calves  up  so  quickly 
that  a  dozen  men  can  hardly  hold  them;  the  men 
with  the  irons,  blackened  with  soot,  run  to  and 
fro;  the  calf -wrestlers,  grimy  with  blood,  dust 
and  sweat,  work  like  beavers ;  while  with  the  voice 
of  a  stentor  the  tally -man  shouts  out  the  number 
and  sex  of  each  calf.  The  dust  rises  in  clouds, 
and  the  shouts,  cheers,  curses  and  laughter  of  the 
men  unite  with  the  lowing  of  the  cows  and  the 
frantic  bleating  of  the  roped  calves  to  make  a 
perfect  babel.  Now  and  then  an  old  cow  turns 
vicious  and  puts  every  one  out  of  the  corral.  Or 
a  maverick  bull, — that  is,  an  unbranded  bull, — 
a  yearling  or  a  two-year-old,  is  caught,  thrown 
and  branded;  when  he  is  let  up  there  is  sure  to 
be  a  fine  scatter.  Down  goes  his  head  and  he 
bolts  at  the  nearest  man,  who  makes  out  of  the 
way  at  top  speed,  amidst  roars  of  laughter  from 
all  of  his  companions;  while  the  men  holding 


188       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

down  calves  swear  savagely  as  they  dodge  charg- 
ing mavericks,  trampling  horses  and  taut  lariats 
with  frantic,  plunging  little  beasts  at  the  farther 
ends. 

Every  morning  certain  riders  are  detached  to 
drive  and  to  guard  the  day  herd,  which  is  most 
monotonous  work,  the  men  being  on  from  4  in 
the  morning  till  8  in  the  evening,  the  only  rest 
coming  at  dinner-time,  when  they  change  horses. 
When  the  herd  has  reached  the  camping-ground 
there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  loll  listlessly  over 
the  saddle-bow  in  the  blazing  sun  watching  the 
cattle  feed  and  sleep,  and  seeing  that  they  do 
not  spread  out  too  much.  Plodding  slowly  along 
on  the  trail  through  the  columns  of  dust  stirred 
up  by  the  hoofs  is  not  much  better.  Cattle  travel 
best  and  fastest  strung  out  in  long  lines;  the 
swiftest  taking  the  lead  in  single  file,  while  the 
weak  and  the  lazy,  the  young  calves  and  the  poor 
cows,  crowd  together  in  the  rear.  Two  men 
travel  along  with  the  leaders,  one  on  each  side,  to 
point  them  in  the  right  direction ;  one  or  two  oth- 
ers keep  by  the  flanks,  and  the  rest  are  in  the  rear 
to  act  as  "drag-drivers"  and  hurry  up  the  pha- 
lanx of  reluctant  weaklings.  If  the  foremost 
of  the  string  travels  too  fast,  one  rider  will  go 
along  on  the  trail  a  few  rods  ahead  and  thus 


THE  ROUND-UP  189 

keep  them  back  so  that  those  in  the  rear  will  not 
be  left  behind. 

Generally  all  this  is  very  tame  and  irksome; 
but  by  fits  and  starts  there  will  be  little  flurries 
of  excitement.  Two  or  three  of  the  circle  riders 
may  unexpectedly  come  over  a  butte  near  by  with 
a  bunch  of  cattle,  which  at  once  start  for  the  day 
herd,  and  then  there  will  be  a  few  minutes'  furi- 
ous riding  hither  and  thither  to  keep  them  out. 
Or  the  cattle  may  begin  to  run  and  then  get 
"milling" — that  is,  all  crowd  together  into  a  mass 
like  a  ball,  wherein  they  move  round  and  round, 
trying  to  keep  their  heads  towards  the  center  and 
refusing  to  leave  it.  The  only  way  to  start  them 
is  to  force  one's  horse  in  among  them  and  cut  out 
some  of  their  number,  which  then  begin  to  travel 
off  by  themselves,  wThen  the  others  will  probably 
follow.  But  in  spite  of  occasional  incidents  of 
this  kind,  day-herding  has  a  dreary  sameness 
about  it  that  makes  the  men  dislike  and  seek  to 
avoid  it. 

From  8  in  the  evening  till  4  in  the  morning 
the  day  herd  becomes  a  night  herd.  Each  wTagon 
in  succession  undertakes  to  guard  it  for  a  night, 
dividing  the  time  into  watches  of  two  hours 
apiece,  a  couple  of  riders  taking  each  watch. 
This  is  generally  chilly  and  tedious ;  but  at  times 


190        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

it  is  accompanied  by  intense  excitement  and  dan- 
ger, when  the  cattle  become  stampeded,  whether 
by  storm  or  otherwise.  The  first  and  the  last 
watches  are  those  chosen  by  preference;  the  oth- 
ers are  disagreeable,  the  men  having  to  turn  out 
cold  and  sleepy,  in  the  pitchy  darkness,  the  two 
hours  of  chilly  wakefulness  completely  breaking 
the  night's  rest.  The  first  guards  have  to  bed 
the  cattle  down,  though  the  day-herders  often  do 
this  themselves:  it  simply  consists  in  hemming 
them  into  as  small  a  space  as  possible  and  then 
riding  round  them  until  they  lie  down  and  fall 
asleep.  Often,  especially  at  first,  this  takes  some 
time — the  beasts  will  keep  rising  and  lying  down 
again.  When  at  last  most  become  quiet,  some 
perverse  brute  of  a  steer  will  deliberately  hook 
them  all  up ;  they  keep  moving  in  and  out  among 
one  another  and  long  strings  of  animals  suddenly 
start  out  from  the  herd  at  a  stretching  walk  and 
are  turned  back  by  the  nearest  cowboy,  only  to 
break  forth  at  a  new  spot.  When  finally  they 
have  lain  down  and  are  chewing  their  cud  or  slum- 
bering, the  two  night  guards  begin  riding  round 
them  in  opposite  ways,  often,  on  very  dark  nights, 
calling  or  singing  to  them,  as  the  sound  of  the  hu- 
man voice  on  such  occasions  seems  to  have  a  ten- 
dency to  quiet  them.  In  inky  black  weather, 
especially  when  rainy,  it  is  both  difficult  and  un- 


THE  ROUND-UP  191 

pleasant  work;  the  main  trust  must  be  placed  in 
the  horse,  which,  if  old  at  the  business,  will  of 
its  own  accord  keep  pacing  steadily  round  the 
herd  and  head  off  any  animals  that,  unseen  by 
the  rider's  eyes  in  the  darkness,  are  trying  to 
break  out.  Usually  the  watch  passes  off  without 
incident,  but  on  rare  occasions  the  cattle  become 
restless  and  prone  to  stampede.  Anything  may 
then  start  them — the  plunge  of  a  horse,  the  sud- 
den approach  of  a  coyote  or  the  arrival  of  some 
outside  steers  or  cows  that  have  smelt  them  and 
come  up.  Every  animal  in  the  herd  will  be  on 
its  feet  in  an  instant,  as  if  by  an  electric  shock, 
and  off  with  a  rush,  horns  and  tail  up.  Then, 
no  matter  how  rough  the  ground  nor  how  pitchy 
black  the  night,  the  cowboys  must  ride  for  all 
there  is  in  them  and  spare  neither  their  own  nor 
their  horses'  necks.  Perhaps  their  charges  break 
away  and  are  lost  altogether ;  perhaps,  by  desper- 
ate galloping,  they  may  head  them  off,  get  them 
running  in  a  circle  and  finally  stop  them.  Once 
stopped,  they  may  break  again  and  possibly  di- 
vide up,  one  cowboy,  perhaps,  following  each 
band.  I  have  known  six  such  stops  and  renewed 
stampedes  to  take  place  in  one  night,  the  cowboy 
staying  with  his  ever-diminishing  herd  of  steers 
until  daybreak,  when  he  managed  to  get  them 
under  control  again,  and,  by  careful  humoring 


192       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

of  his  jaded,  staggering"  horse,  finally  brought 
those  that  were  left  back  to  the  camp,  several 
miles  distant.  The  riding  in  these  night  stam- 
pedes is  wild  and  dangerous  to  a  degree,  espe- 
cially if  the  man  gets  caught  in  the  rush  of  the 
beasts.  It  also  frequently  necessitates  an  im- 
mense amount  of  work  in  collecting  the  scat- 
tered animals.  On  one  such  occasion  a  small 
party  of  us  were  thirty-six  hours  in  the  saddle, 
dismounting  only  to  change  horses  or  to  eat. 
We  were  almost  worn  out  at  the  end  of  the  time ; 
but  it  must  be  kept  in  mind  that  for  a  long  spell 
of  such  work  a  stock-saddle  is  far  less  tiring  than 
the  ordinary  Eastern  or  English  one,  and  in 
every  way  superior  to  it. 

By  very  hard  riding  such  a  stampede  may 
sometimes  be  prevented.  Once  we  were  bring- 
ing a  thousand  head  of  young  cattle  down  to  my 
lower  ranch,  and  as  the  river  was  high  were 
obliged  to  take  the  inland  trail.  The  third  night 
we  were  forced  to  make  a  dry  camp,  the  cattle 
having  had  no  water  since  the  morning.  Nev- 
ertheless, we  got  them  bedded  down  without  diffi- 
culty, and  one  of  the  cowboys  and  myself  stood 
first  guard.  But  very  soon  after  nightfall, 
when  the  darkness  had  become  complete,  the 
thirsty  brutes  of  one  accord  got  on  their  feet  and 
tried  to  break  out.     The  only  salvation  was  to 


THE  ROUND-UP  193 

keep  them  close  together,  as,  if  they  once  got 
scattered,  we  knew  they  could  never  be  gath- 
ered; so  I  kept  on  one  side  and  the  cowboy  on 
the  other,  and  never  in  my  life  did  I  ride  so  hard. 
In  the  darkness  I  could  but  dimly  see  the  shad- 
owy outlines  of  the  herd,  as  with  whip  and  spurs 
I  ran  the  pony  along  its  edge,  turning  back  the 
beasts  at  one  point  barely  in  time  to  wheel  and 
keep  them  in  at  another.  The  ground  was  cut 
up  by  numerous  little  gullies,  and  each  of  us  got 
several  falls,  horses  and  riders  turning  complete 
somersaults.  We  were  dripping  with  sweat  and 
our  ponies  quivering  and  trembling  like  quaking 
aspens,  when,  after  more  than  an  hour  of  the 
most  violent  exertion,  we  finally  got  the  herd 
quieted  again. 

On  another  occasion  while  with  the  round-up 
we  were  spared  an  excessively  unpleasant  night 
only  because  there  happened  to  be  two  or  three 
great  corrals  not  more  than  a  mile  or  so  away. 
All  day  long  it  had  been  raining  heavily  and  we 
were  well  drenched ;  but  towards  evening  it  lulled 
a  little  and  the  day  herd,  a  very  large  one,  of 
some  two  thousand  head,  was  gathered  on  an 
open  bottom.  We  had  turned  the  horses  loose, 
and  in  our  oilskin  slickers  cowered,  soaked  and 
comfortless,  under  the  lee  of  the  wagon,  to  take 
a  meal  of  damp  bread  and  lukewarm  tea,  the  siz- 


194       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

zling  embers  of  the  fire  having  about  given  up 
the  ghost  after  a  quite  fruitless  struggle  with 
the  steady  downpour.  Suddenly  the  wind  be- 
gan to  come  in  quick,  sharp  gusts,  and  soon  a 
regular  blizzard  was  blowing,  driving  the  rain 
in  stinging  level  sheets  before  it.  Just  as  we 
were  preparing  to  turn  into  bed,  with  the  cer- 
tainty of  a  night  of  more  or  less  chilly  misery 
ahead  of  us,  one  of  my  men,  an  iron-faced  per- 
sonage, whom  no  one  would  ever  have  dreamed 
had  a  weakness  for  poetry,  looked  towards  the 
plain  where  the  cattle  were,  and  remarked,  "I 
guess  there  's  'racing  and  chasing  on  Cannobie 
Lea'  now,  sure."  Following  his  gaze,  I  saw 
that  the  cattle  had  begun  to  drift  before  the 
storm,  the  night  guards  being  evidently  unable 
to  cope  with  them,  while  at  the  other  wagons 
riders  were  saddling  in  hot  haste  and  spurring 
off  to  their  help  through  the  blinding  rain. 
Some  of  us  at  once  ran  out  to  our  own  saddle- 
band.  All  of  the  ponies  were  standing  huddled 
together,  with  their  heads  down  and  their  tails 
to  the  wind.  They  were  wild  and  restive  enough 
usually;  but  the  storm  had  cowed  them,  and  we 
were  able  to  catch  them  without  either  rope  or 
halter.  We  made  quick  work  of  saddling;  and 
the  second  each  man  was  ready,  away  he  loped 
through  the  dusk,  splashing  and  slipping  in  the 


THE  ROUND-UP  195 

pools  of  water  that  studded  the  muddy  plain. 
Most  of  the  riders  were  already  out  when  we  ar- 
rived. The  cattle  were  gathered  in  a  compact, 
wedge-shaped,  or  rather  fan-shaped  mass,  with 
their  tails  to  the  wind — that  is,  towards  the  thin 
end  of  the  wedge  or  fan.  In  front  of  this  fan- 
shaped  mass  of  frightened,  maddened  beasts  was 
a  long  line  of  cowboys,  each  muffled  in  his  slicker 
and  with  his  broad  hat  pulled  down  over  his  eyes, 
to  shield  him  from  the  pelting  rain.  When  the 
cattle  were  quiet  for  a  moment  every  horseman 
at  once  turned  round  with  his  back  to  the  wind, 
and  the  whole  line  stood  as  motionless  as  so  many 
sentries.  Then,  if  the  cattle  began  to  spread  out 
and  overlap  at  the  ends,  or  made  a  rush  and 
broke  through  at  one  part  of  the  lines,  there 
would  be  a  change  into  wild  activity.  The  men, 
shouting  and  swaying  in  their  saddles,  darted  to 
and  fro  with  reckless  speed,  utterly  heedless  of 
danger — now  racing  to  the  threatened  point,  now 
checking  and  wheeling  their  horses  so  sharply 
as  to  bring  them  square  on  their  haunches, 
or  even  throw  them  flat  down,  while  the  hoofs 
plowed  furrows  in  the  slippery  soil,  until,  after 
some  minutes  of  mad  galloping  hither  and 
thither,  the  herd,  having  drifted  a  hundred  yards 
or  so,  would  be  once  more  brought  up  standing. 
We  always  had  to  let  them  drift  a  little  to  pre- 


196      STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

vent  their  spreading  out  too  much.  The  din  of 
the  thunder  was  terrific,  peal  following  peal  un- 
til they  mingled  in  one  continuous,  rumbling  roar ; 
and  at  every  thunder-clap  louder  than  its  fellows 
the  cattle  would  try  to  break  away.  Darkness 
had  set  in,  but  each  flash  of  lightning  showed 
us  a  dense  array  of  tossing  horns  and  staring 
eyes.  It  grew  always  harder  to  hold  in  the 
herd;  but  the  drift  took  us  along  to  the  corrals 
already  spoken  of,  whose  entrances  were  luckily 
to  windward.  As  soon  as  we  reached  the  first 
we  cut  off  part  of  the  herd,  and  turned  it  within ; 
and  after  again  doing  this  with  the  second,  we 
were  able  to  put  all  the  remaining  animals  into 
the  third.  The  instant  the  cattle  were  housed 
five-sixths  of  the  horsemen  started  back  at  full 
speed  for  the  wagons;  the  rest  of  us  barely 
waited  to  put  up  the  bars  and  make  the  corrals 
secure  before  galloping  after  them.  We  had  to 
ride  right  in  the  teeth  of  the  driving  storm;  and 
once  at  the  wagons  we  made  small  delay  in  crawl- 
ing under  our  blankets,  damp  though  the  latter 
were,  for  we  were  ourselves  far  too  wet,  stiff  and 
cold  not  to  hail  with  grateful  welcome  any  kind 
of  shelter  from  the  wind  and  the  rain. 

All  animals  were  benumbed  by  the  violence  of 
this  gale  of  cold  rain ;  a  prairie  chicken  rose  from 
under  my  horse's  feet  so  heavily  that,  thought- 


In  a  stampede. 


THE  ROUND-UP  199 

lessly  striking  at  it,  I  cut  it  down  with  my  whip ; 
while  when  a  jack  rabbit  got  up  ahead  of  us,  it 
was  barely  able  to  limp  clumsily  out  of  our  way. 
But  though  there  is  much  work  and  hardship, 
rough  fare,  monotony  and  exposure  connected 
with  the  round-up,  yet  there  are  few  men  who 
do  not  look  forward  to  it  and  back  to  it  with 
pleasure.  The  only  fault  to  be  found  is  that  the 
hours  of  work  are  so  long  that  one  does  not  usu- 
ally have  enough  time  to  sleep.  The  food,  if 
rough,  is  good;  beef,  bread,  pork,  beans,  coffee 
or  tea,  always  canned  tomatoes,  and  often  rice, 
canned  corn,  or  sauce  made  from  dried  apples. 
The  men  are  good-humored,  bold  and  thoroughly 
interested  in  their  business,  continually  vying 
with  one  another  in  the  effort  to  see  which  can 
do  the  work  best.  It  is  superbly  health-giving, 
and  is  full  of  excitement  and  adventure,  calling 
for  the  exhibition  of  pluck,  self-reliance,  hardi- 
hood, and  dashing  horsemanship;  and  of  all 
forms  of  physical  labor  the  easiest  and  pleasant- 
est  is  to  sit  in  the  saddle. 


RED  AND  WHITE  ON  THE  BORDER 


RED  AND  WHITE  ON  THE  BORDER 

UP  to  1880  the  country  through  which  the 
Little  Missouri  flows  remained  as  wild 
and  almost  as  unknown  as  it  was  when  the 
old  explorers  and  fur  traders  crossed  it  in  the 
early  part  of  the  century.  It  was  the  last  great 
Indian  hunting-ground,  across  which  Grosven- 
tres  and  Mandans,  Sioux  and  Cheyennes,  and 
even  Crows  and  Rees  wandered  in  chase  of  game, 
and  where  they  fought  one  another  and  plun- 
dered the  small  parties  of  white  trappers  and 
hunters  that  occasionally  ventured  into  it.  Once 
or  twice  generals  like  Sully  and  Custer  had  pene- 
trated it  in  the  course  of  the  long,  tedious  and 
bloody  campaigns  that  finally  broke  the  strength 
of  the  northern  Horse  Indians;  indeed,  the  trail 
made  by  Custer's  baggage  train  is  to  this  day 
one  of  the  well-known  landmarks,  for  the  deep 
ruts  worn  by  the  wheels  of  the  heavy  wagons  are 
in  many  places  still  as  distinctly  to  be  seen  as 
ever. 

In  1883,  a  regular  long-range  skirmish  took 
place  just  south  of  us  between  some  Cheyennes 

12  203 


204       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

and  some  cowboys,  with  bloodshed  on  both  sides, 
while  about  the  same  time  a  band  of  Sioux  plun- 
dered a  party  of  buffalo  hunters  of  everything 
they  owned,  and  some  Crows  who  attempted  the 
same  feat  with  another  party  were  driven  off 
with  the  loss  of  two  of  their  number.  Since  then 
there  have  been  in  our  neighborhood  no  stand- 
up  fights  or  regular  raids;  but  the  Indians  have 
at  different  times  proved  more  or  less  trouble- 
some, burning  the  grass  and  occasionally  killing 
stock  or  carrying  off  horses  that  have  wandered 
some  distance  away.  They  have  also  themselves 
suffered  somewhat  at  the  hands  of  white  horse- 
thieves. 

Bands  of  them,  accompanied  by  their  squaws 
and  children,  often  come  into  the  ranch  country, 
either  to  trade  or  to  hunt,  and  are  then,  of  course, 
perfectly  meek  and  peaceable.  If  they  stay  any 
time  they  build  themselves  quite  comfortable 
tepees  (wigwams,  as  they  would  be  styled  in  the 
East),  and  an  Indian  camp  is  a  rather  interest- 
ing, though  very  dirty,  place  to  visit.  On  our 
ranch  we  get  along  particularly  well  with  them, 
as  it  is  a  rule  that  they  shall  be  treated  as  fairly 
as  if  they  were  whites;  we  neither  wrong  them 
ourselves  nor  allow  others  to  wrong  them.  We 
have  always,  for  example,  been  as  keen  in  put- 
ting down  horse-stealing  from  Indians  as  from 


RED  AND  WHITE  ON  THE  BORDER      205 

whites — which  indicates  rather  an  advanced 
stage  of  frontier  morality,  as  theft  from  the 
"redskins"  or  the  " Government' '  is  usuallv 
held  to  be  a  very  trivial  matter  compared  with 
the  heinous  crime  of  theft  from  "citizens." 

There  is  always  danger  in  meeting  a  band  of 
young  bucks  in  lonely,  uninhabited  country — 
those  that  have  barely  reached  manhood  being  the 
most  truculent,  insolent  and  reckless.  A  man 
meeting  such  a  party  runs  great  risk  of  losing 
his  horse,  his  rifle  and  all  else  he  has.  This  has 
happened  quite  frequently  during  the  past  few 
years  to  hunters  or  cowboys  who  have  wandered 
into  the  debatable  territory  where  our  country 
borders  on  the  Indian  lands;  and  in  at  least  one 
such  instance,  that  took  place  three  years  ago, 
the  unfortunate  individual  lost  his  life  as  well  as 
his  belongings.  But  a  frontiersman  of  any  ex- 
perience can  generally  "stand  off"  a  small  num- 
ber of  such  assailants,  unless  he  loses  his  nerve  or 
is  taken  by  surprise. 

My  only  adventure  with  Indians  was  of  a  very 
mild  kind.  It  was  in  the  course  of  a  solitary 
trip  to  the  north  and  east  of  our  range,  to  what 
was  then  practically  unknown  country,  although 
now  containing  many  herds  of  cattle.  One 
morning  I  had  been  traveling  along  the  edge  of 
the  prairie,  and  about  noon  I  rode  Manitou  u£ 


206       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

a  slight  rise  and  came  out  on  a  plateau  that  was 
perhaps  half  a  mile  broad.     When  near  the  mid- 
dle, four  or  five  Indians  suddenly  came  up  over 
the  edge,  directly  in  front  of  me.     The  second 
they  saw  me  they  whipped  their  guns  out  of  their 
slings,  started  their  horses  into  a  run,  and  came 
on  at  full  tilt,  whooping  and  brandishing  their 
weapons.     I  instantly  reined  up  and  dismounted. 
The  level  plain  where  we  were  was  of  all  places 
the  one  on  which  such  an  onslaught  could  best 
be  met.     In  any  broken  country,  or  where  there 
is  much  cover,  a  white  man  is  at  a  great  disad- 
vantage if  pitted  against  such  adepts  in  the  art 
of  hiding  as  Indians;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  latter  will  rarely  rush  in  on  a  foe  who,  even 
if  overpowered  in  the  end,  will  probably  inflict 
severe  loss  on  his  assailants.     The  fury  of  an 
Indian  charge,  and  the  whoops  by  which  it  is 
accompanied,  often  scare  horses  so  as  to  stam- 
pede them;  but  in  Manitou  I  had  perfect  trust, 
and  the  old  fellow  stood  as  steady  as  a  rock, 
merely  cocking  his  ears  and  looking  round  at  the 
noise.     I  waited  until  the  Indians  were  a  hun- 
dred yards  off,  and  then  threw  up  my  rifle  and 
drew  a  bead  on  the  foremost.     The  effect  was 
like  magic.     The  whole  party  scattered  out  as 
wild  pigeons  or  teal  ducks  sometimes  do  when 
shot  at,  and  doubled  back  on  their  tracks,  the 


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RED  AND  WHITE  ON  THE  BORDER     209 

men  bending  over  alongside  their  horses.  When 
some  distance  off  they  halted  and  gathered  to- 
gether to  consult,  and  after  a  minute  one  came 
forward  alone,  ostentatiously  dropping  his  rifle 
and  waving  a  blanket  over  his  head.  When  he 
came  within  fifty  yards  I  stopped  him,  and  he 
pulled  out  a  piece  of  paper — all  Indians,  when 
absent  from  their  reservations,  are  supposed  to 
carry  passes — and  called  out,  "How!  Me  good 
Indian!"  I  answered,  "How,"  and  assured 
him  most  sincerely  I  was  very  glad  he  was  a 
good  Indian,  but  I  would  not  let  him  come  closer, 
and  when  his  companions  began  to  draw  near, 
I  covered  him  with  the  rifle  and  made  him  move 
off,  which  he  did  with  a  sudden  lapse  into  the 
most  uncanonical  Anglo-Saxon  profanity.  I 
then  started  to  lead  my  horse  out  to  the  prairie; 
and  after  hovering  round  a  short  time  they  rode 
off,  while  I  followed  suit,  but  in  the  opposite  di- 
rection. It  had  all  passed  too  quickly  for  me  to 
have  time  to  get  frightened;  but  during  the  rest 
of  my  ride  I  was  exceedingly  uneasy,  and  pushed 
tough,  speedy  old  Manitou  along  at  a  rapid  rate, 
keeping  well  out  on  the  level.  However,  I  never 
saw  the  Indians  again.  They  may  not  have  in- 
tended any  mischief  beyond  giving  me  a  fright, 
but  I  did  not  dare  to  let  them  come  to  close 
quarters,  for  they  would  probably  have  taken 


£10       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

my  horse  and  rifle,  and  not  impossibly  my  scalp 
as  well.  Towards  nightfall  I  fell  in  with  two 
old  trappers  who  lived  near  Killdeer  Mountains, 
and  they  informed  me  that  my  assailants  were 
some  young  Sioux  bucks,  at  whose  hands  they 
themselves  had  just  suffered  the  loss  of  two 
horses. 

A  few  cool,  resolute  whites,  well  armed,  can 
generally  beat  back  a  much  larger  number  of 
Indians  if  attacked  in  the  open.  One  of  the  first 
cattle  outfits  that  came  to  the  Powder  River  coun- 
try, at  the  very  end  of  the  last  war  with  the  Sioux 
and  Cheyennes,  had  an  experience  of  this  sort. 
There  were  six  or  eight  whites,  including  the 
foreman,  who  was  part  owner,  and  they  had 
about  a  thousand  head  of  cattle.  These  they  in- 
tended to  hold  just  out  of  the  dangerous  district 
until  the  end  of  the  war,  which  was  evidentlv 
close  at  hand.  They  would  thus  get  first  choice 
of  the  new  grazing  grounds.  But  they  ventured 
a  little  too  far,  and  one  day  while  on  the  trail 
were  suddenly  charged  by  fifty  or  sixty  Indians. 
The  cattle  were  scattered  in  every  direction,  and 
many  of  them  slain  in  wantonness,  though  most 
were  subsequently  recovered.  All  the  loose 
horses  were  driven  off.  But  the  men  themselves 
instantly  ran  together  and  formed  a  ring,  fight- 
ing from  behind  the  pack-  and  saddle-ponies. 


RED  AND  WHITE  ON  THE  BORDER     211 

One  of  their  number  was  killed,  as  well  as  two 
or  three  of  the  animals  composing  their  living 
breastwork;  but  being  good  riflemen,  they  drove 
off  their  foes.  The  latter  did  not  charge  them 
directly,  but  circled  round,  each  rider  concealed 
on  the  outside  of  his  horse;  and  though  their 
firing  was  very  rapid,  it  was,  naturally,  very  wild. 
The  whites  killed  a  good  many  ponies,  and  got 
one  scalp,  belonging  to  a  young  Sioux  brave  who 
dashed  up  too  close,  and  whose  body  in  conse- 
quence could  not  be  carried  off  by  his  comrades, 
as  happened  to  two  or  three  others  who  were  seen 
to  fall.  Both  the  men  who  related  the  incident 
to  me  had  been  especially  struck  by  the  skill  and 
daring  shown  by  the  Indians  in  thus  carrying 
off  their  dead  and  wounded  the  instant  they  fell. 
The  relations  between  the  white  borderers  and 
their  red-skinned  foes  and  neighbors  are  rarely 
pleasant.  There  are  incessant  quarrels,  and 
each  side  has  to  complain  of  bitter  wrongs. 
Many  of  the  frontiersmen  are  brutal,  reckless 
and  overbearing;  most  of  the  Indians  are  treach- 
erous, revengeful  and  fiendishly  cruel.  Crime 
and  bloodshed  are  the  only  possible  results  when 
such  men  are  brought  in  contact.  Writers  usu- 
ally pay  heed  only  to  one  side  of  the  story ;  they 
recite  the  crimes  committed  by  one  party,  whether 
whites  or  Indians,  and  omit  all  reference  to  the 


212       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

equally  numerous  sins  of  the  other.  In  our  deal- 
ings with  the  Indians  we  have  erred  quite  as 
often  through  sentimentality  as  through  willful 
wrong-doing.  Out  of  my  own  short  experience 
I  could  recite  a  dozen  instances  of  white  out- 
rages which,  if  told  alone,  would  seem  to  justify 
all  the  outcry  raised  on  behalf  of  the  Indian,  and 
I  could  also  tell  of  as  many  Indian  atrocities 
which  make  one  almost  feel  that  not  a  single  one 
of  the  race  should  be  left  alive. 

The  chief  trouble  arises  from  the  feeling  al- 
luded to  in  this  last  sentence — the  tendency  on 
each  side  to  hold  the  race,  and  not  the  individual, 
responsible  for  the  deeds  of  the  latter.  The 
skirmish  between  the  cowboys  and  the  Cheyennes, 
spoken  of  above,  offers  a  case  in  point.  It  was 
afterwards  found  out  that  two  horse-thieves  had 
stolen  some  ponies  from  the  Cheyennes.  The 
latter  at  once  sallied  out  and  attempted  to  take 
some  from  a  cow  camp,  and  a  fight  resulted.  In 
exactly  the  same  way  I  once  knew  a  party  of 
buffalo  hunters,  who  had  been  robbed  of  their 
horses  by  the  Sioux,  to  retaliate  by  stealing  an 
equal  number  from  some  perfectly  peaceful 
Grosventres.  A  white  or  an  Indian  who  would 
not  himself  commit  any  outrage  will  yet  make  no 
effort  to  prevent  his  fellows  from  organizing 
expeditions  against  men  of  the  rival  race.     This 


RED  AND  WHITE  ON  THE  BORDER      213 

is  natural  enough  where  law  is  weak,  and  where, 
in  consequence,  every  man  has  as  much  as  he  can 
do  to  protect  himself  without  meddling  in  the 
quarrels  of  his  neighbors.  Thus  a  white  com- 
munity will  often  refrain  from  taking  active 
steps  against  men  who  steal  horses  only  from  the 
Indians,  although  I  have  known  a  number  of 
instances  where  the  ranchmen  have  themselves 
stopped  such  outrages.  The  Indians  behave  in 
the  same  way.  There  is  a  peaceful  tribe  not 
very  far  from  us  which  harbors  two  or  three  red 
horse-thieves,  who  steal  from  the  whites  at  every 
chance.  Recently,  in  our  country,  an  expedition 
was  raised  to  go  against  these  horse-thieves,  and 
it  was  only  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  it  was 
stopped;  had  it  actually  gone,  accompanied  as 
it  would  have  been  by  scoundrels  bent  on  plun- 
der, as  well  as  by  wronged  men  who  thought  all 
redskins  pretty  much  alike,  the  inevitable  result 
would  have  been  a  bloody  fight  with  all  the  In- 
dians, both  good  and  bad. 

Not  only  do  Indians  differ  individually,  but 
they  differ  as  tribes.  An  upper-class  Cherokee 
is  nowadays  as  good  as  a  white.  The  Nez  Perces 
differ  from  the  Apaches  as  much  as  a  Scotch 
laird  does  from  a  Calabrian  bandit.  A  Chey- 
enne warrior  is  one  of  the  most  redoubtable  foes 
in  the  whole  world;  a  "digger"  Snake  one  of  the 


214       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

most  despicable.  The  Pueblo  is  as  thrifty,  indus- 
trious and  peaceful  as  any  European  peasant, 
and  no  Arab  of  the  Soudan  is  a  lazier,  wilder 
robber  than  is  the  Arapahoe. 

The  frontiersmen  themselves  differ  almost  as 
widely  from  one  another.  But  in  the  event  of 
an  Indian  outbreak  all  suffer  alike,  and  so  all 
are  obliged  to  stand  together ;  when  the  reprisals 
for  a  deed  of  guilt  are  sure  to  fall  on  the  inno- 
cent, the  latter  have  no  resource  save  to  ally  them- 
selves with  the  guilty.  Moreover,  even  the  best 
Indians  are  very  apt  to  have  a  good  deal  of  the 
wild  beast  in  them;  when  they  scent  blood  they 
wish  their  share  of  it,  no  matter  from  whose  veins 
it  flows.  I  once  had  a  German  in  my  employ, 
who,  when  a  young  child,  had  lost  all  his  rela- 
tions by  a  fate  so  terrible  that  it  had  weighed 
down  his  whole  after-life.  His  family  was  liv- 
ing out  on  the  extreme  border  at  the  time  of  the 
great  Sioux  outbreak  towards  the  end  of  the 
Civil  War.  There  were  many  Indians  around, 
seemingly  on  good  terms  with  them;  and  to  two 
of  these  Indians  they  had  been  able  to  be  of  much 
service,  so  that  they  became  great  friends. 
When  the  outbreak  occurred,  the  members  of 
this  family  were  among  the  first  captured.  The 
two  friendly  Indians  then  endeavored  to  save 
their  lives,  doing  all  they  could  to  dissuade  their 


RED  AND  WHITE  ON  THE  BORDER      215 

comrades  from  committing  violence.  Finally, 
after  an  angry  discussion,  the  chief,  who  was, 
present,  suddenly  ended  it  by  braining  the 
mother.  The  two  former  friends,  finding  their 
efforts  useless,  forthwith  turned  round  and  joined 
with  the  others  in  putting  the  daughters  to  death 
with  torture.  The  boy  alone  was  allowed  to  live. 
If  he  had  been  a  native-born  frontiersman,  in- 
stead of  a  peaceful,  quiet  German,  he  probably 
would  have  turned  into  an  inveterate  Indian- 
slayer,  resolute  to  kill  any  of  the  hated  race 
wherever  and  whenever  met — a  type  far  from 
unknown  on  the  border,  of  which  I  have  myself 
seen  at  least  one  example. 

With  this  incident  it  is  only  fair  to  contrast 
another  that  I  heard  related  while  spending  the 
night  in  a  small  cow  ranch  on  the  Beaver,  whither 
I  had  ridden  on  one  of  our  many  tedious  hunts 
after  lost  horses.  Being  tired,  I  got  into  my 
bunk  early,  and  while  lying  there  listened  to  the 
conversation  of  two  cowboys — both  strangers 
to  me — who  had  also  ridden  up  to  the  ranch  to 
spend  the  night.  They  were  speaking  of  In- 
dians, and  mentioned,  certainly  without  any 
marked  disapprobation,  a  jury  that  had  just  ac- 
quitted a  noted  horse-thief  of  the  charge  of  steal- 
ing stock  from  some  Piegans,  though  he  himself 
had  openly  admitted  its  truth.     One,  an  unpre- 


216        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

possessing,  beetle-browed  man,  suddenly  re- 
marked that  he  had  once  met  an  Indian  who  was 
a  pretty  good  fellow,  and  he  proceeded  to  tell 
the  story.  A  small  party  of  Indians  had  passed 
the  winter  near  the  ranch  at  which  he  was  em- 
ployed. The  chief  had  two  particularly  fine 
horses,  which  so  excited  the  cowboy's  cupidity 
that  one  night  he  drove  them  off  and  "cached" — 
that  is,  hid — them  in  a  safe  place.  The  chief 
looked  for  them  high  and  low,  but  without  suc- 
cess. Soon  afterwards  one  of  the  cowboy's  own 
horses  strayed.  When  spring  came  the  Indians 
went  away;  but  three  days  afterwards  the  chief 
returned,  bringing  with  him  the  strayed  horse, 
which  he  had  happened  to  run  across.  "I 
could  n't  stand  that,"  said  the  narrator,  "so  I 
just  told  him  I  reckoned  I  knew  where  his  own 
lost  horses  were,  and  I  saddled  up  my  bronch' 
and  piloted  him  to  them." 

Indians  are  excellent  fighters,  though  they  do 
not  shoot  well — being  in  this  respect  much  in- 
ferior not  only  to  the  old  hunters,  but  also,  nowa- 
days, to  the  regular  soldiers,  who  during  the  past 
three  or  four  years  have  improved  wonderfully 
in  marksmanship.  They  have  a  very  effective 
discipline  of  their  own,  and  thus  a  body  of  them 
may  readily  be  an  overmatch  for  an  equal  num- 
ber of  frontiersmen  if  the  latter  have  no  leader 


RED  AND  WHITE  ON  THE  BORDER     217 

whom  they  respect.  If  the  cowboys  have  rifles 
— for  the  revolver  is  useless  in  long-range  indi- 
vidual fighting — they  feel  no  fear  of  the  In- 
dians, so  long  as  there  are  but  half  a  dozen  or  so 
on  a  side;  but,  though  infinitely  quicker  in  their 
movements  than  regular  cavalry,  yet,  owing  to 
their  heavy  saddles,  they  are  not  able  to  make 
quite  so  wonderful  marches  as  the  Indians  do, 
and  their  unruly  spirit  often  renders  them  inef- 
fective when  gathered  in  any  number  without  a 
competent  captain.  Under  a  man  like  Forrest 
they  would  become  the  most  formidable  fighting 
horsemen  in  the  world. 

In  the  summer  of  1886,  at  the  time  of  the  war- 
scare  over  the  "Cutting  incident,"  we  began  the 
organization  of  a  troop  of  cavalry  in  our  district, 
notifying  the  Secretary  of  War  that  we  were  at 
the  service  of  the  Government,  and  being  prom- 
ised every  assistance  by  our  excellent  chief  ex- 
ecutive of  the  Territory,  Governor  Pierce.  Of 
course  the  cowboys  were  all  eager  for  war,  they 
did  not  much  care  with  whom;  they  were  very 
patriotic,  they  were  fond  of  adventure,  and,  to 
tell  the  truth,  they  were  by  no  means  averse  to 
the  prospect  of  plunder.  News  from  the  outside 
world  came  to  us  very  irregularly,  and  often  in 
distorted  form,  so  that  we  began  to  think  we 
might  get  involved  in  a  conflict  not  only  with 


218       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

Mexico,  but  with  England  also.  One  evening 
at  my  ranch  the  men  began  talking  over  the  Eng- 
lish soldiers,  so  I  got  down  "Napier"  and  read 
them  several  extracts  from  his  descriptions  of 
the  fighting  in  the  Spanish  peninsula,  also  re- 
counting as  well  as  I  could  the  great  deeds  of  the 
British  cavalry  from  Waterloo  to  Balaklava,  and 
finishing  up  by  describing  from  memory  the  fine 
appearance,  the  magnificent  equipment  and  the 
superb  horses  of  the  Household  cavalry  and  of 
a  regiment  of  hussars  I  had  once  seen. 

All  of  this  produced  much  the  same  effect  on 
my  listeners  that  the  sight  of  Marmion's  caval- 
cade produced  in  the  minds  of  the  Scotch  moss- 
troopers on  the  eve  of  Flodden;  and  at  the  end, 
one  of  them,  who  had  been  looking  into  the  fire 
and  rubbing  his  hands  together,  said  with  regret- 
ful emphasis,  "Oh,  how  I  would  like  to  kill  one 
of  them!" 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH 

I.      FINNIGAN. 

IN  our  own  immediate  locality  we  have  had 
more  difficulty  with  white  desperadoes  than 
with  the  redskins.  At  times  there  has  been 
a  good  deal  of  cattle-killing  and  horse-stealing, 
and  occasionally  a  murder  or  two.  But  as  re- 
gards the  last,  a  man  has  very  little  more  to  fear 
in  the  West  than  in  the  East,  in  spite  of  all  the 
lawless  acts  one  reads  about.  Undoubtedly  a 
long-standing  quarrel  sometimes  ends  in  a  shoot- 
ing-match; and  of  course  savage  affrays  occa- 
sionally take  place  in  the  bar-rooms ;  in  which,  be 
it  remarked,  that,  inasmuch  as  the  men  are  gen- 
erally drunk,  and,  furthermore,  as  the  revolver 
is  at  best  a  rather  inaccurate  weapon,  outsiders 
are  nearly  as  apt  to  get  hurt  as  are  the  partici- 
pants. But  if  a  man  minds  his  own  business 
and  does  not  go  into  bar-rooms,  gambling  sa- 
loons, and  the  like,  he  need  have  no  fear  of  being 
molested;  while  a  revolver  is  a  mere  foolish  in- 
cumbrance for  any  but  a  thorough  expert,  and 
need  never  be  carried.  Against  horse-thieves, 
13  221 


222       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

cattle-thieves,  claim- jumpers,  and  the  like,  how- 
ever, every  ranchman  has  to  be  on  his  guard,  and 
armed  collisions  with  these  gentry  are  sometimes 
inevitable.  The  fact  of  such  scoundrels  being 
able  to  ply  their  trade  with  impunity  for  any 
length  of  time  can  only  be  understood  if  the  ab- 
solute wildness  of  our  land  is  taken  into  account. 
The  country  is  yet  unsurveyed  and  unmapped; 
the  course  of  the  river  itself,  as  put  down  on  the 
various  Government  and  railroad  maps,  is  very 
much  a  mere  piece  of  guesswork,  its  bed  being 
in  many  parts — as  by  my  ranch — ten  or  fif- 
teen miles  or  more  away  from  where  these  maps 
make  it.  White  hunters  came  into  the  land  by 
1880,  but  the  actual  settlement  only  began  in 
1882,  when  the  first  cattle-men  drove  in  their 
herds,  all  of  Northern  stock,  the  Texans  not  pass- 
ing north  of  the  country  around  the  head-waters 
of  the  river  until  the  following  year,  while  until 
1885  the  territory  through  which  it  ran  for  the 
final  hundred  and  fifty  miles  before  entering 
the  Big  Missouri  remained  as  little  known  as 
ever. 

Some  of  us  had  always  been  anxious  to  run 
down  the  river  in  a  boat  during  the  time  of  the 
spring  floods,  as  we  thought  we  might  get  good 
duck  and  goose  shooting,  and  also  kill  some 
beaver,  while  the  trip  would,  in  addition,  have  all 

''? 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        223 

the  charm  of  an  exploring  expedition.  Twice, 
so  far  as  we  knew,  the  feat  had  been  performed, 
both  times  by  hunters,  and  in  one  instance  with 
very  good  luck  in  shooting  and  trapping.  A 
third  attempt,  by  two  men  on  a  raft,  made  the 
spring  preceding  that  on  which  we  made  ours, 
had  been  less  successful,  for,  when  a  score  or 
so  of  miles  below  our  ranch,  a  bear  killed  one 
of  the  two  adventurers,  and  the  survivor  re- 
turned. 

We  could  only  go  down  during  a  freshet,  for 
the  Little  Missouri,  like  most  plains'  rivers,  is 
usually  either  a  dwindling  streamlet,  a  mere  slen- 
der thread  of  sluggish  water,  or  else  a  boiling, 
muddy  torrent,  running  over  a  bed  of  shifting 
quicksand,  that  neither  man  nor  beast  can  cross. 
It  rises  and  falls  with  extraordinary  suddenness 
and  intensity,  an  instance  of  which  has  just  oc- 
curred as  this  very  page  is  being  written.  Last 
evening,  when  the  moon  rose,  from  the  ranch 
veranda  we  could  see  the  river-bed  almost  dry, 
the  stream  having  shrunk  under  the  drought  till 
it  was  little  but  a  string  of  shallow  pools,  with 
between  them  a  trickle  of  water  that  was  not 
ankle  deep,  and  hardly  wet  the  fetlocks  of  the 
saddle-band  when  driven  across  it;  yet  at  day- 
break this  morning,  without  any  rain  having 
fallen  near  us,  but  doubtless  in  consequence  of 


224       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

some  heavy  cloudburst  near  its  head,  the  swift, 
swollen  current  was  foaming  brim  high  between 
the  banks,  and  even  the  fords  were  swimming- 
deep  for  the  horses. 

Accordingly  we  had  planned  to  run  down  the 
river  sometime  towards  the  end  of  April,  taking 
advantage  of  a  rise;  but  an  accident  made  us 
start  three  or  four  weeks  sooner  than  we  had  in- 
tended. 

In  1886  the  ice  went  out  of  the  upper  river 
very  early,  during  the  first  part  of  February; 
but  it  at  times  almost  froze  over  again,  the  bot- 
tom ice  did  not  break  up,  and  a  huge  gorge, 
scores  of  miles  in  length,  formed  in  and  above 
the  bend  known  as  the  Ox-bow,  a  long  distance 
up-stream  from  my  ranch.  About  the  middle 
of  March  this  great  Ox-bow  jam  came  down  past 
us.  It  moved  slowly,  its  front  forming  a  high, 
crumbling  wall,  and  creaming  over  like  an  im- 
mense breaker  on  the  seashore;  we  could  hear 
the  dull  roaring  and  crunching  as  it  plowed  down 
the  river-bed  long  before  it  came  in  sight  round 
the  bend  above  us.  The  ice  kept  piling  and  toss- 
ing up  in  the  middle,  and  not  only  heaped  itself 
above  the  level  of  the  banks,  but  also  in  many 
places  spread  out  on  each  side  beyond  them, 
grinding  against  the  cottonwood  trees  in  front 
of  the  ranch  veranda,  and  at  one  moment  bidding 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        225 

fair  to  overwhelm  the  house  itself.  It  did  not, 
however,  but  moved  slowly  down  past  us  with 
that  look  of  vast,  resistless,  relentless  force  that 
any  great  body  of  moving  ice,  as  a  glacier,  or 
an  iceberg,  always  conveys  to  the  beholder.  The 
heaviest  pressure  from  the  water  that  was  backed 
up  behind  being,  of  course,  always  in  the  middle, 
this  part  kept  breaking  away,  and  finally  was 
pushed  on  clear  through,  leaving  the  river  so 
changed  that  it  could  hardly  be  known.  On  each 
bank,  and  for  a  couple  of  hundred  feet  out  from 
it  into  the  stream,  was  a  solid  mass  of  ice,  edg- 
ing the  river  along  most  of  its  length,  at  least  as 
far  as  its  course  lay  through  lands  that  we  knew ; 
and  in  the  narrow  channel  between  the  sheer-ice- 
walls  the  water  ran  like  a  mill-race. 

At  night  the  snowy,  glittering  masses,  tossed 
up  and  heaped  into  fantastic  forms,  shone  like 
crystal  in  the  moonlight ;  but  they  soon  lost  their 
beauty,  becoming  fouled  and  blackened,  and  at 
the  same  time  melted  and  settled  down  until  it 
was  possible  to  clamber  out  across  the  slippery 
hummocks. 

We  had  brought  out  a  clinker-built  boat  es- 
pecially to  ferry  ourselves  over  the  river  when 
it  was  high,  and  were  keeping  our  ponies  on  the 
opposite  side,  where  there  was  a  good  range  shut 
in  by  some  very  broken  country  that  we  knew 


226       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

they  would  not  be  apt  to  cross.  This  boat  had 
already  proved  very  useful  and  now  came  in 
handier  than  ever,  as  without  it  we  could  take 
no  care  of  our  horses.  We  kept  it  on  the  bank, 
tied  to  a  tree,  and  every  day  would  carry  it  or 
slide  it  across  the  hither  ice  bank,  usually  with  not 
a  little  tumbling  and  scrambling  on  our  part, 
lower  it  gently  into  the  swift  current,  pole  it 
across  to  the  ice  on  the  farther  bank,  and  then 
drag  it  over  that,  repeating  the  operation  when 
we  came  back.  One  day  we  crossed  and  walked 
off  about  ten  miles  to  a  tract  of  wild  and  rugged 
country,  cleft  in  every  direction  by  ravines  and 
cedar  canons,  in  the  deepest  of  which  we  had  left 
four  deer  hanging  a  fortnight  before,  as  game 
thus  hung  up  in  cold  weather  keeps  indefinitely. 
The  walking  was  very  bad,  especially  over  the 
clay  buttes;  for  the  sun  at  midday  had  enough 
strength  to  thaw  out  the  soil  to  the  depth  of  a  few 
inches  only,  and  accordingly  the  steep  hillsides 
were  covered  by  a  crust  of  slippery  mud,  with 
the  frozen  ground  underneath.  It  was  hard  to 
keep  one's  footing,  and  to  avoid  falling  while 
balancing  along  the  knife-like  ridge  crests,  or 
while  clinging  to  the  stunted  sage  brush  as  we 
went  down  into  the  valleys.  The  deer  had  been 
hung  in  a  thicket  of  dwarfed  cedars;  but  when 
we  reached  the  place  we  found  nothing  save 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        227 

scattered  pieces  of  their  carcasses,  and  the  soft 
mud  was  tramped  all  over  with  round,  deeply 
marked  footprints,  some  of  them  but  a  few  hours 
old,  showing  that  the  plunderers  of  our  cache 
were  a  pair  of  cougars — "mountain  lions,"  as 
they  are  called  by  the  Westerners.  They  had 
evidently  been  at  work  for  some  time,  and  had 
eaten  almost  every  scrap  of  flesh ;  one  of  the  deer 
had  been  carried  for  some  distance  to  the  other 
side  of  a  deep,  narrow,  chasm-like  gully  across 
which  the  cougar  must  have  leaped  with  the  car- 
cass in  its  mouth.  We  followed  the  fresh  trail 
of  the  cougars  for  some  time,  as  it  was  well 
marked,  especially  in  the  snow  still  remaining 
in  the  bottoms  of  the  deeper  ravines;  finally  it 
led  into  a  tangle  of  rocky  hills  riven  by  dark 
cedar-clad  gorges,  in  which  we  lost  it,  and  we  re- 
traced our  steps,  intending  to  return  on  the  mor- 
row with  a  good  track  hound. 

But  we  never  carried  out  our  intentions,  for 
next  morning  one  of  my  men  who  was  out  be- 
fore breakfast  came  back  to  the  house  with  the 
startling  news  that  our  boat  was  gone — stolen, 
for  he  brought  with  him  the  end  of  the  rope  with 
which  it  had  been  tied,  evidently  cut  off  with  a 
sharp  knife;  and  also  a  red  woolen  mitten  with 
a  leather  palm,  which  he  had  picked  up  on  the 
ice.     We  had  no  doubt  as  to  who  had  stolen  it, 


228        STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

for  whoever  had  done  so  had  certainly  gone  down 
the  river  in  it,  and  the  only  other  thing  in  the 
shape  of  a  boat  on  the  Little  Missouri  was  a 
small  flat-bottomed  scow  in  the  possession  of 
three  hard  characters  who  lived  in  a  shack,  or  hut, 
some  twenty  miles  above  us,  and  whom  we  had 
shrewdly  suspected  for  some  time  of  wishing  to 
get  out  of  the  country,  as  certain  of  the  cattle- 
men had  begun  openly  to  threaten  to  lynch  them. 
They  belonged  to  a  class  that  always  holds  sway 
during  the  raw  youth  of  a  frontier  community, 
and  the  putting  down  of  which  is  the  first  step 
towards  decent  government.  Dakota,  west  of 
the  Missouri,  has  been  settled  very  recently,  and 
every  town  within  it  has  seen  strange  antics  per- 
formed during  the  past  six  or  seven  years.  Me- 
dora,  in  particular,  has  had  more  than  its  full 
share  of  shooting  and  stabbing  affrays,  horse- 
stealing and  cattle-killing.  But  the  time  for 
such  things  was  passing  away;  and  during  the 
preceding  fall  the  vigilantes — locally  known  as 
"stranglcrs,"  in  happy  allusion  to  their  summary 
method  of  doing  justice — had  made  a  clean 
sweep  of  the  cattle  country  along  the  Yellow- 
stone and  that  part  of  the  Big  Missouri  around 
and  below  its  mouth.  Be  it  remarked,  in  pass- 
ing, that  while  the  outcome  of  their  efforts  had 
been  in  the  main  wholesome,  yet,  as  is  always 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        229 

the  case  in  an  extended  raid  of  vigilantes,  sev- 
eral of  the  sixty  odd  victims  had  been  perfectly 
innocent  men  who  had  been  hung  or  shot  in  com- 
pany with  the  real  scoundrels,  either  through 
carelessness  and  misapprehension  or  on  account 
of  some  personal  spite. 

The  three  men  we  suspected  had  long  been 
accused — justly  or  unjustly — of  being  impli- 
cated both  in  cattle-killing  and  in  that  worst  of 
frontier  crimes,  horse-stealing;  it  was  only  by  an 
accident  that  they  had  escaped  the  clutches  of 
the  vigilantes  the  preceding  fall.  Their  leader 
was  a  well-built  fellow  named  Finnigan,  who 
had  long  red  hair  reaching  to  his  shoulders,  and 
always  wore  a  broad  hat  and  a  fringed  buckskin 
shirt.  He  was  rather  a  hard  case,  and  had  been 
chief  actor  in  a  number  of  shooting  scrapes. 
The  other  two  were  a  half-breed,  a  stout,  muscu- 
lar man,  and  an  old  German,  whose  viciousness 
was  of  the  weak  and  shiftless  type. 

We  knew  that  these  three  men  were  becoming 
uneasy  and  were  anxious  to  leave  the  locality; 
and  we  also  knew  that  traveling  on  horseback, 
in  the  direction  in  which  they  would  wish  to  go, 
was  almost  impossible,  as  the  swollen,  ice- fringed 
rivers  could  not  be  crossed  at  all,  and  the 
stretches  of  broken  ground  would  form  nearly 
an  impassable  barrier.     So  we  had  little  doubt 


230       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

that  it  was  they  who  had  taken  our  boat ;  and  as 
they  knew  there  was  then  no  boat  left  on  the 
river,  and  as  the  country  along  its  banks  was  en- 
tirely impracticable  for  horses,  we  felt  sure  they 
would  be  confident  that  there  could  be  no  pur- 
suit. 

Accordingly  we  at  once  set  to  work  in  our  turn 
to  build  a  flat-bottomed  scow,  wherein  to  follow 
them.  Our  loss  was  very  annoying,  and  might 
prove  a  serious  one  if  we  were  long  prevented 
from  crossing  over  to  look  after  the  saddle-band ; 
but  the  determining  motive  in  our  minds  was 
neither  chagrin  nor  anxiety  to  recover  our  prop- 
erty. In  any  wild  country  where  the  power  of 
the  law  is  little  felt  or  heeded,  and  where  every 
one  has  to  rely  upon  himself  for  protection,  men 
soon  get  to  feel  that  it  is  in  the  highest  degree 
unwise  to  submit  to  any  wrong  without  making 
an  immediate  and  resolute  effort  to  avenge  it 
upon  the  wrong- doers,  at  no  matter  what  cost  of 
risk  or  trouble.  To  submit  tamely  and  meekly 
to  theft,  or  to  any  other  injury,  is  to  invite  al- 
most certain  repetition  of  the  offense,  in  a  place 
where  self-reliant  hardihood  and  the  ability  to 
hold  one's  own  under  all  circumstances  rank  as 
the  first  virtues. 

Two  of  my  cowboys,  Seawall  and  Dow,  were 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        231 

originally  from  Maine,  and  were  mighty  men  of 
their  hands,  skilled  in  woodcraft  and  the  use  of 
the  ax,  paddle  and  rifle.  They  set  to  work  with 
a  will,  and,  as  by  good  luck  there  were  plenty 
of  boards,  in  two  or  three  days  they  had  turned 
out  a  first-class  flat-bottom,  which  was  roomy, 
drew  very  little  water,  and  was  dry  as  a  bone; 
and  though,  of  course,  not  a  handy  craft,  was 
easily  enough  managed  in  going  down-stream. 
Into  this  we  packed  flour,  coffee  and  bacon 
enough  to  last  us  a  fortnight  or  so,  plenty  of 
warm  bedding  and  the  mess  kit;  and  early  one 
cold  March  morning  slid  it  into  the  icy  current, 
took  our  seats,  and  shoved  off  down  the  river. 

There  could  have  been  no  better  men  for  a  trip 
of  this  kind  than  my  two  companions,  Seawall 
and  Dow.  They  were  tough,  hardy,  resolute 
fellows,  quick  as  cats,  strong  as  bears,  and  able 
to  travel  like  bull  moose.  We  felt  very  little  un- 
easiness as  to  the  result  of  a  fight  with  the  men 
we  were  after,  provided  we  had  anything  like  a 
fair  show;  moreover,  we  intended,  if  possible,  to 
get  them  at  such  a  disadvantage  that  there  would 
not  be  any  fight  at  all.  The  only  risk  of  any 
consequence  that  we  ran  was  that  of  being  am- 
bushed; for  the  extraordinary  formation  of  the 
Bad  Lands,  with  the  ground  cut  up  into  gullies, 


232       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

serried  walls,  and  battlemented  hill-tops,  makes 
it  the  country  of  all  others  for  hiding-places  and 
ambuscades. 

For  several  days  before  we  started  the  weather 
had  been  bitterly  cold,  as  a  furious  blizzard  was 
blowing ;  but  on  the  day  we  left  there  was  a  lull, 
and  we  hoped  a  thaw  had  set  in.  We  all  were 
most  warmly  and  thickly  dressed,  with  woolen 
socks  and  underclothes,  heavy  jackets  and  trous- 
ers, and  great  fur  coats,  so  that  we  felt  we  could 
bid  defiance  to  the  weather.  Each  carried  his 
rifle,  and  we  had  in  addition  a  double-barreled 
duck  gun,  for  water- fowl  and  beaver.  To  man- 
age the  boat,  we  had  paddles,  heavy  oars,  and 
long  iron-shod  poles,  Seawall  steering  while  Dow 
sat  in  the  bow.  Altogether  we  felt  as  if  we  were 
off  on  a  holiday  trip,  and  set  to  work  to  have  as 
good  a  time  as  possible. 

The  river  twisted  in  every  direction,  winding 
to  and  fro  across  the  alluvial  valley  bottom,  only 
to  be  brought  up  by  the  rows  of  great  barren 
buttes  that  abounded  it  on  each  edge.  It  had 
worn  away  the  sides  of  these  till  they  towered  up 
as  cliffs  of  clay,  marl,  or  sandstone.  Across 
their  white  faces  the  seams  of  coal  drew  sharp 
black  bands,  and  they  were  elsewhere  blotched 
and  varied  with  brown,  yellow,  purple  and  red. 
This  fantastic  coloring,  together  with  the  jagged 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        233 

irregularity  of  their  crests,  channeled  by  the 
weather  into  spires,  buttresses  and  battlements, 
as  well  as  their  barrenness  and  the  distinctness 
with  which  they  loomed  up  through  the  high, 
dry  air,  gave  them  a  look  that  was  a  singular 
mixture  of  the  terrible  and  the  grotesque.  The 
bottoms  were  covered  thickly  with  leafless  Cot- 
tonwood trees,  or  else  with  withered  brown  grass 
and  stunted,  sprawling  sage  bushes.  At  times 
the  cliffs  rose  close  to  us  on  either  hand,  and 
again  the  valley  would  widen  into  a  sinuous  oval 
a  mile  or  two  long,  bounded  on  every  side,  as  far 
as  our  eyes  could  see,  by  a  bluff  line  without  a 
break,  until,  as  we  floated  down  close  to  its  other 
end,  there  would  suddenly  appear  in  one  corner 
a  cleft  through  which  the  stream  rushed  out.  As 
it  grew  dusk  the  shadowy  outlines  of  the  buttes 
lost  nothing  of  their  weirdness ;  the  twilight  only 
made  their  uncouth  shapelessness  more  grim  and 
forbidding.  They  looked  like  the  crouching  fig- 
ures of  great  goblin  beasts. 

Those  two  hills  on  the  right 
Crouched  like  two  bulls  locked  horn  in  horn  in  fight — 
While  to  the  left  a  tall  scalped  mountain. 
The  dying  sunset  kindled  through  a  cleft: 
The  hills,  like  giants  at  a  hunting,  lay 
Chin  upon  hand,  to  see  the  game  at  bay — 


234       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

might  well  have  been  written  after  seeing  the 
strange,  desolate  lands  lying  in  western  Dakota. 

All  through  the  early  part  of  the  day  we 
drifted  swiftly  down  between  the  heaped-up  piles 
of  ice,  the  cakes  and  slabs  now  dirtv  and  unat- 
tractive  looking.  Towards  evening,  however, 
there  came  long  reaches  where  the  banks  on  either 
side  were  bare,  though  even  here  there  would 
every  now  and  then  be  necks  where  the  jam  had 
been  crowded  into  too  narrow  a  spot  and  had 
risen  over  the  side  as  it  had  done  up-stream, 
grinding  the  bark  from  the  big  cottonwoods  and 
snapping  the  smaller  ones  short  off.  In  such 
places  the  ice-walls  were  sometimes  eight  or  ten 
feet  high,  continually  undermined  by  the  rest- 
less current;  and  every  now  and  then  overhang- 
ing pieces  would  break  off  and  slide  into  the 
stream  with  a  loud  sullen  splash,  like  the  plunge 
of  some  great  water  beast.  Nor  did  we  dare  to 
go  in  too  close  to  the  high  cliffs,  as  bowlders  and 
earth  masses,  freed  by  the  thaw  from  the  grip 
of  the  frost,  kept  rolling  and  leaping  down  their 
faces  and  forced  us  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  lest 
our  boat  should  be  swamped. 

At  nightfall  we  landed  and  made  our  camp 
on  a  point  of  wood-covered  land  jutting  out  into 
the  stream.  We  had  seen  very  little  trace  of  life 
until  late  in  the  day,  for  the  ducks  had  not  yet 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        235 

arrived;  but  in  the  afternoon  a  sharp-tailed 
prairie  fowl  flew  aeross  stream  ahead  of  the  boat, 
lighting  on  a  low  branch  by  the  water's  edge. 
Shooting  him,  we  landed  and  picked  off  two  oth- 
ers that  were  perched  high  up  in  leafless  cot- 
tonwoods,  plucking  the  buds.  These  three  birds 
served  us  as  supper;  and  shortly  afterward,  as 
the  cold  grew  more  and  more  biting,  we  rolled 
in  under  our  furs  and  blankets  and  were  soon 
asleep. 

In  the  morning  it  was  evident  that  instead  of 
thawing  it  had  grown  decidedty  colder.  The 
anchor  ice  was  running  thick  in  the  river,  and  we 
spent  the  first  hour  or  two  after  sunrise  in  hunt- 
ing over  the  frozen  swamp  bottom  for  white-tail 
deer,  of  which  there  were  many  tracks;  but  we 
saw  nothing.  Then  we  broke  camp  and  again 
started  down-stream — a  simple  operation,  as  we 
had  no  tent,  and  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  cord  up 
our  bedding  and  gather  the  mess  kit.  It  was 
colder  than  before,  and  for  some  time  we  went 
along  in  chilly  silence,  nor  was  it  until  midday 
that  the  sun  warmed  our  blood  in  the  least.  The 
crooked  bed  of  the  current  twisted  hither  and 
thither,  but  whichever  way  it  went  the  icy  north 
wind,  blowing  stronger  all  the  time,  drew  steadily 
up  it.  One  of  us  remarking  that  we  bade  fair 
to  have  it  in  our  faces  all  day,  the  steersman  an- 


236       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

nounced  that  we  could  n't,  unless  it  was  the  crook- 
edest  wind  in  Dakota;  and  half  an  hour  after- 
ward we  overheard  him  muttering  to  himself  that 
it  was  the  crookedest  wind  in  Dakota.  We 
passed  a  group  of  tepees  on  one  bottom,  marking 
the  deserted  winter  camp  of  some  Grosventre 
Indians,  which  some  of  my  men  had  visited  a 
few  months  previously  on  a  trading  expedition. 
It  was  almost  the  last  point  on  the  river  with 
which  we  were  acquainted.  At  midday  we 
landed  on  a  sand-bar  for  lunch — a  simple 
enough  meal,  the  tea  being  boiled  over  a  fire  of 
driftwood,  that  also  fried  the  bacon,  while  the 
bread  only  needed  to  be  baked  every  other  day. 
Then  we  again  shoved  off.  As  the  afternoon 
waned  the  cold  grew  still  more  bitter,  and  the 
wind  increased,  blowing  in  fitful  gusts  against 
us,  until  it  chilled  us  to  the  marrow  when  we  sat 
still.  But  we  rarely  did  sit  still,  for  even  the 
rapid  current  was  unable  to  urge  the  light- 
draught  scow  down  in  the  teeth  of  the  strong 
blasts,  and  we  only  got  her  along  by  dint  of  hard 
work  with  pole  and  paddle.  Long  before  the 
sun  went  down  the  ice  had  begun  to  freeze  on 
the  handles  of  the  poles,  and  we  were  not  sorry 
to  haul  on  shore  for  the  night.  For  supper  we 
again  had  prairie  fowl,  having  shot  four  from  a 
great  patch  of  bulberry  bushes  late  in  the  after- 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        237 

noon.     A  man  doing  hard  open-air  work  in  cold 
weather  is  always  hungry  for  meat. 

During  the  night  the  thermometer  went  down 
to  zero,  and  in  the  morning  the  anchor  ice  was 
running  so  thickly  that  we  did  not  care  to  start 
at  once,  for  it  is  most  difficult  to  handle  a  boat 
in  the  deep  frozen  slush.  Accordingly  we  took 
a  couple  of  hours  for  a  deer  hunt,  as  there  were 
evidently  many  white-tail  on  the  bottom.  We 
selected  one  long,  isolated  patch  of  tangled  trees 
and  brushwood,  two  of  us  beating  through  it 
while  the  other  watched  one  end;  but  almost  be- 
fore we  had  begun  four  deer  broke  out  at  one 
side,  loped  easily  off,  evidently  not  much  scared, 
and  took  refuge  in  a  deep  glen  or  gorge,  densely 
wooded  with  cedars,  that  made  a  blind  pocket  in 
the  steep  side  of  one  of  the  great  plateaus  bound- 
ing the  bottom.  After  a  short  consultation,  one 
of  our  number  crept  round  to  the  head  of  the 
gorge,  making  a  wide  detour,  and  the  other  two 
advanced  up  it  on  each  side,  thus  completely  sur- 
rounding the  doomed  deer.  They  attempted  to 
break  out  past  the  man  at  the  head  of  the  glen, 
who  shot  down  a  couple,  a  buck  and  a  yearling 
doe.  The  other  two  made  their  escape  by  run- 
ning off  over  ground  so  rough  that  it  looked 
fitter  to  be  crossed  by  their  upland-loving  cousins, 
the  black -tail. 

14 


238       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

This  success  gladdened  our  souls,  insuring  us 
plenty  of  fresh  meat.  We  carried  pretty  much 
all  of  both  deer  back  to  camp,  and,  after  a  hearty 
breakfast,  loaded  our  scow  and  started  merrily 
off  once  more.  The  cold  still  continued  intense, 
and  as  the  day  wore  away  we  became  numbed  by 
it,  until  at  last  an  incident  occurred  that  set  our 
blood  running  freely  again. 

II.      THE    CAMP    OF   THE   THIEVES. 

We  were,  of  course,  always  on  the  alert,  keep- 
ing a  sharp  lookout  ahead  and  around  us,  and 
making  as  little  noise  as  possible.  Finally  our 
watchfulness  was  rewarded,  for  in  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon  of  this,  the  third  day  we  had  been 
gone,  as  we  came  around  a  bend,  we  saw  in  front 
of  us  the  lost  boat,  together  with  a  scow,  moored 
against  the  bank,  while  from  among  the  bushes 
some  little  way  back  the  smoke  of  a  camp-fire 
curled  up  through  the  frosty  air.  We  had  come 
on  the  camp  of  the  thieves.  As  I  glanced  at  the 
faces  of  my  two  followers  I  was  struck  by  the 
grim,  eager  look  in  their  eyes.  Our  overcoats 
were  off  in  a  second,  and  after  exchanging  a  few 
muttered  words,  the  boat  was  hastilyand  silently 
shoved  towards  the  bank.     As  soon  as  it  touched 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        239 

the  shore  ice  I  leaped  out  and  ran  up  behind  a 
clump  of  bushes,  so  as  to  cover  the  landing  of 
the  others,  who  had  to  make  the  boat  fast.  For 
a  moment  we  felt  a  thrill  of  keen  excitement, 
and  our  veins  tingled  as  we  crept  cautiously  to- 
wards the  fire,  for  it  seemed  likely  that  there 
would  be  a  brush ;  but,  as  it  turned  out,  this  was 
almost  the  only  moment  of  much  interest,  for  the 
capture  itself  was  as  tame  as  possible. 

The  men  we  were  after  knew  they  had  taken 
with  them  the  only  craft  there  was  on  the  river, 
and  so  felt  perfectly  secure ;  accordingly,  we  took 
them  absolutely  by  surprise.  The  only  one  in 
camp  was  the  German,  whose  weapons  were  on 
the  ground,  and  who,  of  course,  gave  up  at  once, 
his  two  companions  being  off  hunting.  We 
made  him  safe,  delegating  one  of  our  number 
to  look  after  him  particularly  and  see  that  he 
made  no  noise,  and  then  sat  down  and  waited  for 
the  others.  The  camp  was  under  the  lee  of  a 
cut  bank,  behind  which  we  crouched,  and,  after 
waiting  an  hour  or  over,  the  men  we  were  after 
came  in.  We  heard  them  a  long  way  off  and 
made  ready,  watching  them  for  some  minutes  as 
they  walked  towards  us,  their  rifles  on  their  shoul- 
ders and  the  sunlight  glinting  on  the  steel  bar- 
rels.    When  they  were  within  twenty  yards  or 


240       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

so  we  straightened  up  from  behind  the  bank,  cov- 
ering them  with  our  cocked  rifles,  while  I  shouted 
to  them  to  hold  up  their  hands — an  order  that  in 
such  a  case,  in  the  West,  a  man  is  not  apt  to  dis- 
regard if  he  thinks  the  giver  is  in  earnest.  The 
half-breed  obeyed  at  once,  his  knees  trembling  as 
if  they  had  been  made  of  whalebone.  Finnigan 
hesitated  for  a  second,  his  eyes  fairly  wolfish; 
then,  as  I  walked  up  within  a  few  paces,  cover- 
ing the  center  of  his  chest  so  as  to  avoid  over- 
shooting, and  repeating  the  command,  he  saw 
that  he  had  no  show,  and,  with  an  oath,  let  his 
rifle  drop  and  held  his  hands  up  beside  his  head. 
It  was  nearly  dusk,  so  we  camped  where  we 
were.  The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  collect 
enough  wood  to  enable  us  to  keep  a  blazing  fire 
all  night  long.  While  Seawall  and  Dow,  thor- 
oughly at  home  in  the  use  of  the  axe,  chopped 
down  dead  cottonwood  trees  and  dragged  the 
logs  up  into  a  huge  pile,  I  kept  guard  over  the 
three  prisoners,  who  were  huddled  into  a  sullen 
group  some  twenty  yards  off,  just  the  riL  t  dis- 
tance for  the  buckshot  in  the  double-barrel. 
Having  captured  our  men,  we  were  in  a  quan- 
dary how  to  keep  them.  The  cold  was  so  in- 
tense that  to  tie  them  tightly  hand  and  foot 
meant,  in  all  likelihood,  freezing  both  hands  and 
feet  off  during  the  night;  and  it  was  no  use  ty- 


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SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        243 

ing  them  at  all  unless  we  tied  them  tightly 
enough  to  stop  in  part  the  circulation.  So  noth- 
ing was  left  for  us  to  do  but  to  keep  perpetual 
guard  over  them.  Of  course  we  had  carefully 
searched  them  and  taken  away  not  only  their 
firearms  and  knives,  but  everything  else  that 
could  possibly  be  used  as  a  weapon.  By  this 
time  they  were  pretty  well  cowed,  as  they  found 
out  very  quickly  that  they  would  be  well  treated 
so  long  as  they  remained  quiet,  but  would  receive 
some  rough  handling  if  they  attempted  any  dis- 
turbance. 

Our  next  step  was  to  cord  their  weapons  up  in 
some  bedding,  which  we  sat  on  while  we  took 
supper.  Immediately  afterward  we  made  the 
men  take  off  their  boots — an  additional  safe- 
guard, as  it  was  a  cactus  country,  in  which  a  man 
could  travel  barefoot  only  at  the  risk  of  almost 
certainly  laming  himself  for  life — and  go  to  bed, 
all  three  lying  on  one  buffalo  robe  and  being  cov- 
ered by  another,  in  the  full  light  of  the  blazing 
fire.  We  determined  to  watch  in  succession  a 
half -night  apiece,  thus  each  getting  a  full  rest 
every  third  night.  I  took  first  watch,  my  two 
companions,  revolver  under  head,  rolling  up  in 
their  blankets  on  the  side  of  the  fire  opposite 
that  on  which  the  three  captives  lay;  while  I,  in 
fur  cap,  gauntlets  and  overcoat,  took  my  station 

15  '  - 


244       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

a  little  way  back  in  the  circle  of  firelight,  in  a 
position  in  which  I  could  watch  my  men  with  the 
absolute  certainty  of  being  able  to  stop  any 
movement,  no  matter  how  sudden.  For  this 
night-watching  we  always  used  the  double-barrel 
with  buckshot,  as  a  rifle  is  uncertain  in  the  dark ; 
while  with  a  shot-gun  at  such  a  distance,  and 
with  men  lying  down,  a  person  who  is  watchful 
may  be  sure  that  they  cannot  get  up,  no  matter 
how  quick  they  are,  without  being  riddled.  The 
only  danger  lies  in  the  extreme  monotony  of  sit- 
ting still  in  the  dark  guarding  men  who  make  no 
motion,  and  the  consequent  tendency  to  go  to 
sleep,  especially  when  one  has  had  a  hard  day's 
work  and  is  feeling  really  tired.  But  neither  on 
the  first  night  nor  on  any  subsequent  one  did  we 
ever  abate  a  jot  of  our  watchfulness. 

Next  morning  we  started  downstream,  having 
a  well-laden  flotilla,  for  the  men  we  had  caught 
had  a  good  deal  of  plunder  in  their  boats,  in- 
cluding some  saddles,  as  they  evidently  intended 
to  get  horses  as  soon  as  they  reached  a  part  of 
the  country  where  there  were  any  and  where  it 
was  possible  to  travel.  Finnigan,  who  was  the 
ringleader  and  the  man  I  was  especially  after,  I 
kept  by  my  side  in  our  boat,  the  other  two  being 
put  in  their  own  scow,  heavily  laden  and  rather 
leaky  and  with  only  one  paddle.     We  kept  them 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH  ,     245 

just  in  front  of  us,  a  few  yards  distant,  the  river 
being  so  broad  that  we  knew,  and  they  knew  also, 
any  attempt  at  escape  to  be  perfectly  hopeless. 

For  some  miles  we  went  swiftly  downstream, 
the  cold  being  bitter  and  the  slushy  anchor  ice 
choking  the  space  between  the  boats;  then  the 
current  grew  sluggish,  eddies  forming  along  the 
sides.  We  paddled  on  until,  coming  into  a  long 
reach  where  the  water  was  almost  backed  up,  we 
saw  there  was  a  stoppage  at  the  other  end. 
Working  up  to  this,  it  proved  to  be  a  small  ice 
jam,  through  which  we  broke  our  way  only  to 
find  ourselves,  after  a  few  hundred  yards, 
stopped  by  another.  We  had  hoped  that  the 
first  was  merely  a  jam  of  anchor  ice,  caused  by 
the  cold  of  the  last  few  days;  but  the  jam  we  had 
now  come  to  was  black  and  solid  and,  running 
the  boats  ashore,  one  of  us  went  off  down  the 
bank  to  find  out  what  the  matter  was.  On 
climbing  a  hill  that  commanded  a  view  of  the 
valley  for  several  miles,  the  explanation  became 
only  too  evident — as  far  as  we  could  see,  the  river 
was  choked  with  black  ice.  The  great  Ox-bow 
jam  had  stopped,  and  we  had  come  down  to 
its  tail. 

We  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  pitch  camp,  after 
which  we  held  a  consultation.  The  Little  Mis- 
souri has  much  too  swift  a  current — when  it  has 


246      STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

any  current  at  all — with  too  bad  a  bottom,  for 
it  to  be  possible  to  take  a  boat  upstream;  and  to 
walk  meant,  of  course,  abandoning  almost  all  we 
had.  Moreover,  we  knew  that  a  thaw  would 
very  soon  start  the  jam,  and  so  made  up  our 
minds  that  we  had  best  simply  stay  where  we 
were  and  work  downstream  as  fast  as  we  could, 
trusting  that  the  spell  of  bitter  weather  would 
pass  before  our  food  gave  out. 


III.      EIGHT  DAYS  OF  WATCHING. 

The  next  eight  days  were  as  irksome  and  mo- 
notonous as  any  I  ever  spent:  there  is  very  little 
amusement  in  combining  the  functions  of  a 
sheriff  with  those  of  an  arctic  explorer.  The 
weather  kept  as  cold  as  ever.  During  the  night 
the  water  in  the  pail  would  freeze  solid.  Ice 
formed  all  over  the  river,  thickly  along  the 
banks ;  and  the  clear,  frosty  sun  gave  us  so  little 
warmth  that  the  melting  hardly  began  before 
noon.  Each  day  the  great  jam  would  settle 
downstream  a  few  miles,  only  to  wedge  again, 
leaving  behind  it  several  smaller  jams,  through 
which  we  would  work  our  way  until  we  were  as 
close  to  the  tail  of  the  large  one  as  we  dared  to 
go.  Once  we  came  round  a  bend  and  got  so 
near  that  we  were  in  a  good  deal  of  danger  of 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        <W 

being  sucked  under.  The  current  ran  too  fast 
to  let  us  work  back  against  it,  and  we  could  not 
pull  the  boat  up  over  the  steep  banks  of  rotten 
ice,  which  were  breaking  off  and  falling  in  all 
the  time.  We  could  only  land  and  snub  the 
boats  up  with  ropes,  holding  them  there  for  two 
or  three  hours  until  the  jam  worked  down  once 
more — all  the  time,  of  course,  having  to  keep 
guard  over  the  captives,  who  had  caused  us  so 
much  trouble  that  we  were  bound  to  bring  them 
in,  no  matter  what  else  we  lost. 

We  had  to  be  additionally  cautious  on  account 
of  being  in  the  Indian  country,  having  worked 
down  past  Kildeer  Mountains,  where  some  of 
my  cowboys  had  run  across  a  band  of  Sioux — 
said  to  be  Tetons — the  year  before.  Very  prob- 
ably the  Indians  would  not  have  harmed  us  any- 
how, but  as  we  were  hampered  by  the  prisoners 
we  preferred  not  meeting  them;  nor  did  we, 
though  we  saw  plenty  of  fresh  signs  and  found, 
to  our  sorrow,  that  they  had  just  made  a  grand 
hunt  all  down  the  river  and  had  killed  or  driven 
off  almost  every  head  of  game  in  the  country 
through  which  we  were  passing. 

As  our  stock  of  provisions  grew  scantier  and 
scantier,  we  tried  in  vain  to  eke  it  out  by  the 
chase;  for  we  saw  no  game.  Two  of  us  would 
go  out  hunting  at  a  time,  while  the  third  kept 


248       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

guard  over  the  prisoners.  The  latter  would  be 
made  to  sit  down  together  on  a  blanket  at  one 
side  of  the  fire,  while  the  guard  for  the  time  be- 
ing stood  or  sat  some  fifteen  or  twenty  yards  off. 
The  prisoners  being  unarmed  and  kept  close  to- 
gether, there  was  no  possibility  of  their  escap- 
ing, and  the  guard  kept  at  such  a  distance  that 
they  could  not  overpower  him  by  springing  on 
him,  he  having  a  Winchester  or  the  double-bar- 
reled shot-gun  always  in  his  hands  cocked  and 
at  the  ready.  So  long  as  we  kept  wide-awake 
and  watchful  there  was  not  the  least  danger,  as 
our  three  men  knew  us  and  understood  perfectly 
that  the  slightest  attempt  at  a  break  would  re- 
sult in  their  being  shot  down ;  but,  although  there 
was  thus  no  risk,  it  was  harassing,  tedious  work, 
and  the  strain,  day  in  and  day  out,  without  any 
rest  or  let  up,  became  very  tiresome. 

The  days  were  monotonous  to  a  degree.  The 
endless  rows  of  hills  bounding  the  valley,  barren 
and  naked,  stretched  along  without  a  break. 
When  we  rounded  a  bend,  it  was  only  to  see  on 
each  hand  the  same  lines  of  broken  buttes  dwin- 
dling off  into  the  distance  ahead  of  us  as  they 
had  dwindled  off  into  the  distance  behind.  If, 
in  hunting,  we  climbed  to  their  tops,  as  far  as 
our  eyes  could  scan  there  was  nothing  but  the 
great  rolling  prairie,  bleak  and  lifeless,  reach- 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        249 

ing  off  to  the  horizon.  We  broke  camp  in  the 
morning,  on  a  point  of  land  covered  with  brown, 
leafless,  frozen  cotton  woods;  and  in  the  after- 
noon we  pitched  camp  on  another  point  in  the 
midst  of  a  grove  of  the  same  stiff,  dreary  trees. 
The  discolored  river,  whose  eddies  boiled  into  yel- 
low foam,  flowed  always  between  the  same  banks 
of  frozen  mud  or  of  muddy  ice.  And  what  was, 
from  a  practical  standpoint,  even  worse,  our  diet 
began  to  be  as  same  as  the  scenery.  Being  able 
to  kill  nothing,  we  exhausted  all  our  stock  of  pro- 
visions, and  got  reduced  to  flour,  without  yeast 
or  baking-powder;  and  unleavened  bread,  made 
with  exceedingly  muddy  water,  is  not,  as  a  steady 
thing,  attractive. 

Finding  that  they  were  well  treated  and  were 
also  watched  with  the  closest  vigilance,  our  pris- 
oners behaved  themselves  excellently  and  gave 
no  trouble,  though  afterward,  when  out  of  our 
hands  and  shut  up  in  jail,  the  half-breed  got  into 
a  stabbing  affray.  They  conversed  freely  with 
my  two  men  on  a  number  of  indifferent  subjects, 
and  after  the  first  evening  no  allusion  was  made 
to  the  theft  or  anything  connected  with  it;  so 
that  an  outsider  overhearing  the  conversation 
would  never  have  guessed  what  our  relations  to 
each  other  really  were.  Once,  and  once  only,  did 
Finnigan  broach  the  subject.     Somebody  had 


250       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

been  speaking  of  a  man  whom  we  all  knew, 
called  "Calamity,"  who  had  been  recently  taken 
by  the  sheriff  on  a  charge  of  horse-stealing. 
Calamity  had  escaped  once,  but  was  caught  at  a 
disadvantage  the  next  time;  nevertheless,  when 
summoned  to  hold  his  hands  up,  he  refused  and 
attempted  to  draw  his  own  revolver,  with  the  re- 
sult of  having  two  bullets  put  through  him. 
Finnigan  commented  on  Calamity  as  a  fool  for 
"not  knowing  when  a  man  had  the  drop  on 
him" ;  and  then,  suddenly  turning  to  me,  said,  his 
weather-beaten  face  flushing  darkly:  "If  I'd 
had  any  show  at  all,  you'd  have  sure  had  to  fight, 
Mr.  Roosevelt ;  but  there  wasn't  any  use  making 
a  break  when  I'd  only  have  got  shot  myself,  with 
no  chance  of  harming  any  one  else."  I  laughed 
and  nodded,  and  the  subject  was  dropped. 

Indeed,  if  the  time  was  tedious  to  us,  it  must 
have  seemed  never-ending  to  our  prisoners,  who 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  lie  still  and  read,  or 
chew  the  bitter  cud  of  their  reflections,  always 
conscious  that  some  pair  of  eyes  was  watching 
them  every  moment,  and  that  at  least  one  loaded 
rifle  was  ever  ready  to  be  used  against  them. 
They  had  quite  a  stock  of  books,  some  of  a 
rather  unexpected  kind.  Dime  novels  and  the 
inevitable  "History  of  the  James  Brothers" — a 
book  that,  together  with  the  "Police  Gazette,"  is 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        251 

to  be  found  in  the  hands  of  every  professed  or 
putative  ruffian  in  the  West — seemed  perfectly 
in  place ;  but  it  was  somewhat  surprising  to  find 
that  a  large  number  of  more  or  less  drearily  silly 
"society"  novels,  ranging  from  Ouida's  to  those 
of  The  Duchess  and  Augusta  J.  Evans,  were 
most  greedily  devoured.  As  for  me,  I  had 
brought  with  me  "Anna  Karenina,"  and  my  sur- 
roundings were  quite  gray  enough  to  harmonize 
well  with  Tolstoi. 

Our  commons  grew  shorter  and  shorter;  and 
finally  even  the  flour  was  nearly  gone,  and  we 
were  again  forced  to  think  seriously  of  abandon- 
ing the  boats.  The  Indians  had  driven  all  the 
deer  out  of  the  country;  occasionally  we  shot 
prairie  fowl,  but  they  were  not  plentiful.  A 
flock  of  geese  passed  us  one  morning,  and  after- 
ward an  old  gander  settled  down  on  the  river 
near  our  camp;  but  he  was  over  two  hundred 
yards  off,  and  a  rifle-shot  missed  him.  Where 
he  settled  down,  by  the  way,  the  river  was  cov- 
ered with  thick  glare  ice  that  would  just  bear  his 
weight ;  and  it  was  curious  to  see  him  stretch  his 
legs  out  in  front  and  slide  forty  or  fifty  feet 
when  he  struck,  balancing  himself  with  his  out- 
spread wings. 

But  when  the  day  was  darkest  the  dawn  ap- 
peared.    At   last,    having   worked    down    some 


252       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

thirty  miles  at  the  tail  of  the  ice  jam,  we  struck 
an  outlying1  cow-camp  of  the  C  Diamond  (CO) 
ranch,  and  knew  that  our  troubles  were  almost 
over.     There  was  but  one  cowboy  in  it,  but  we 
were  certain  of  his  cordial  help,  for  in  a  stock 
country  all  make  common  cause  against  either 
horse-thieves     or    cattle-thieves.     He    had     no 
wagon,  but  told  us  we  could  get  one  up  at  a  ranch 
near  Killdeer  Mountains,  some  fifteen  miles  off, 
and  lent  me  a  pony  to  go  up  there  and  see  about 
it — which  I  accordingly  did,  after  a  sharp  pre- 
liminary tussle  when  I  came  to  mount  the  wiry 
bronco    (one  of  my  men  remarking  in  a  loud 
aside  to   our  cowboy  host,   "the  boss   ain't  no 
bronco-buster").     When  I  reached  the  solitary 
ranch  spoken  of ,  I  was  able  to  hire  a  large  prairie 
schooner   and   two   tough   little   bronco   mares, 
driven  by  the  settler  himself,  a  rugged  old  plains- 
man, who  evidently  could  hardly  understand  why 
I  took  so  much  bother  with  the  thieves  instead  of 
hanging  them  off-hand.     Returning  to  the  river 
the  next  day,  we  walked  our  men  up  to  the  Kill- 
deer  Mountains.     Seawall  and  Dow  left  me  the 
following  morning,  went  back  to  the  boats  and 
had  no  further  difficulty,   for  the  weather  set 
in  very  warm,  the  ice  went  through  with  a  rush, 
and  they  reached  Mandan  in  about  ten  days,  kill- 
ing four  beaver  and  five  geese  on  the  way,  but 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH        253 

lacking  time  to  stop  to  do  any  regular  hunting. 
Meanwhile  I  took  the  three  thieves  into  Dick- 
inson, the  nearest  town.  The  going  was  bad  and 
the  little  mares  could  only  drag  the  wagon  at  a 
walk;  so,  though  we  drove  during  the  daylight, 
it  took  us  two  days  and  a  night  to  make  the 
journey.  It  was  a  most  desolate  drive.  The 
prairie  had  been  burned  the  fall  before  and  was 
a  mere  bleak  waste  of  blackened  earth,  and  a 
cold,  rainy  mist  lasted  throughout  the  two  days. 
The  only  variety  was  where  the  road  crossed  the 
shallow  headwaters  of  Knife  and  Green  rivers. 
Here  the  ice  was  high  along  the  banks  and  the 
wagon  had  to  be  taken  to  pieces  to  get  it  over. 
My  three  captives  were  unarmed,  but  as  I  was 
alone  with  them,  except  for  the  driver,  of  whom 
I  knew  nothing,  I  had  to  be  doubly  on  my  guard 
and  never  let  them  come  close  to  me.  The  little 
mares  went  so  slowly,  and  the  heavy  road  ren- 
dered any  hope  of  escape  by  flogging  up  the 
horses  so  entirely  out  of  the  question,  that  I  soon 
found  the  safest  plan  was  to  put  the  prisoners  in 
the  wagon  and  myself  walk  behind  with  the  in- 
evitable Winchester.  Accordingly  I  trudged 
steadily  the  whole  time  behind  the  wagon 
through  the  ankle- deep  mud.  It  was  a  gloomy 
walk.  Hour  after  hour  went  by  always  the 
same,  while  I  plodded  along  through  the  dreary 


r 

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254       STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST 

landscape — hunger,  cold  and  fatigue  struggling 
with  a  sense  of  dogged,  weary  resolution.  At 
night,  when  we  put  up  at  the  squalid  hut  of  a 
frontier  granger,  the  only  habitation  on  our  road, 
it  was  even  worse.  I  did  not  dare  to  go  to  sleep, 
but  making  my  three  men  get  into  the  upper 
bunk,  from  which  they  could  get  out  only  with 
difficulty,  I  sat  up  with  my  back  against  the  cab- 
in-door and  kept  watch  over  them  all  night  long. 
So,  after  thirty-six  hours'  sleeplessness,  I  was 
most  heartily  glad  when  we  at  last  jolted  into  the 
long,  straggling  main  street  of  Dickinson,  and  I 
was  able  to  give  my  unwilling  companions  into 
the  hands  of  the  sheriff. 

Under  the  laws  of  Dakota  I  received  my  fees 
as  a  deputy  sheriff  for  making  the  three  arrests, 
and  also  mileage  for  the  three  hundred  odd  miles 
gone  over — a  total  of  some  fifty  dollars. 


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